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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliapr?Z-'5 Copyright No, 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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MILLY AVELING 


MILLY AVELING 


BY / 

SARA TRAINER SMITH 

► » 

AUTHOR OF “ OLD CHARLMONT’s SEED-BED,” “ FRED’s LITTLE 
DAUGHTER,” ETC. 



NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO 

BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See, 

1901 



X, 


Ubrsiry of Confli'eaa 

“Two Copies Received 

PEB 1901 

. Copyright entry 

SECOND COPY 


I 




Copyright, 1901, by 
BENZIGER BROTHERS. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Why They Went 7 

CHAPTER II. 

Who They Were and Where They Went 16 

CHAPTER HI. 

Gray Beach 25 

CHAPTER IV. 

What They Found There 35 

CHAPTER V. 

Milly’s First Caller 43 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Stormy Petrel’s Nest 52 

CHAPTER VII. 

‘ ‘ All Out Doors ” 60 

CHAPTER VIH. 

The Lodge in the Wilderness 69 

CHAPTER IX. 

Butterflies 80 

CHAPTER X. 

Miss Hilson’s Silver Box 90 

CHAPTER XI. 

Tom and his Troubles 97 

5 


6 


Contents, 


CHAPTER XII. 

page: 

At Bay Bluff Again 105 

CHAPTER Xm. 

The “ Blue Berry Tree ” 110 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A “ Helping Hand ” 118 

CHAPTER XV. 

A Dull Christmas for Some People 127 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Christmas Indeed ! 136 

CHAPTER XVII. 

In Blue and White 144 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Out of Bondage 150 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Lost 161 

CHAPTER XX. 

Found 169 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Silver and All 181 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Treasure Trove 187 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

March Winds 195 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Good-by 1 208 


MILLY AYELING. 


CHAPTER I. 

WHY THEY WEI^^T. 

Ahd the doctors think she will never walk again ? ” 

They are afraid of it.” 

The two girls looked steadily at each other. The one 
who had answered put her hand over her eyes and her 
lip trembled. 

Poor, poor Milly ! ” exclaimed the other in an awed, 
hushed voice, and with a slow, dismayed look around the 
room. There was nothing there to explain her conster- 
nation — a pretty, simple, sunlit room under the roof of a 
country house, evidently the property of one or both of 
the sisters now occupying it. 

^^Dr. Morton says she may live for years — but he 
doesn't think she will — without being able to stand or 
even to rise from her chair. She must have a wheeled 
chair, and must be forced to sit up for a little while each 
day, or she will lose the povver of doing it, and oh ! it is 
such agony for her to be moved.” 

She had uncovered her eyes and was busy unpacking 
and laying away the contents of a light traveling bag, the 


8 


Why they Went. 

other had carried, passing from dressing-table to ward- 
robe and washstand with qrdck nervous movements which 
betrayed agitation. 

When did it happen, Helena 

Last Sunday. She has not been well since she came, 
but she said nothing and went about as usual ; but I 
watched her all the time for some sign of a break down. 
One night — I think it was Wednesday — she cried a long 
time after we went to bed. I knew she thought I was 
asleep, but I wasn’t, and I listened as long as I could 
without making any sign, trying Avhat to make up my 
mind to do. The doctor said I spoiled her, and weakened 
her will by petting and coddling her, and I did not want to 
do tliat, so I thought I would try the other way. Finally, 
I spoke as sharply as possible. I said I would not stand 
any more such nonsense— it was ridiculous. If there was 
anything to cry for, she should just come out and say so, 
and, if I could, I would help her, and, if I couldn’t, I 
would tell mother next morning, and see what she could 
do.” 

The other girl smiled a very little smile. 

I think I hear you ! ” she said softly. 

‘‘ Indeed, then, I was hateful ! She stopped crying 
at once, and lay very still. So I felt awfully sorry, and 
coaxed her to tell me what ailed her, and, after a while, 
she said it was her back, and, oh, she was so tired ! It 
tired her so to keep holding herself still from trembling 
all the time. That frightened me, for I knew no one 
ought to feel that way. But I cheered her up as well as 
I could, and said it was only nervousness after last win- 
ter, and we would go in town and see the doctor the very 


Why they Went. 9 

next morning and he would stop it— and all like that, you 
know. ’’ 

“Yes, I know.” 

“ But we didn't go the next morning, nor the next, for 
she seemed quite bright and said nothing about going, 
so I thought maybe it was nervousness and would go off 
without the doctor. But on Saturday, we went into the 
Art Exhibition, and I saw the trembling myself. I saw 
the program in her hand shaking like a leaf, and, then, 
her walk, and all seemed to go wrong at once. I pulled 
her hand through my arm, and, fortunately, we were just 
around the corner from the doctor’s. The minute we 
walked in, he asked how long this had been going on, 
and when she told him, he only said to me to take her 
home and put her to bed, and keep her there until he 
said she might get up. He would be out home, he said, 
as soon as Ave were. She was just as cool as possible, 
and Avhen we got off the car at the bridge, she said she was 
so glad they had not met us, for she would like to walk 
home once more. ” 

“ Oh, Helena, hoAV dreadful ! The locust Avalk will 
seem haunted ! ” 

“ Well, we did walk. I got her home and up-stairs 
and into bed, I don’t knowhow. Mother was at Blooms- 
bury with Aunt Margaret — she is on, did you know ? — 
but after that, I felt she was safe, and when the doctor 
came, he did not seem anxious ; he said it had happened 
before, years ago — before she went to the convent. It 
was that way for a week — until the next Sunday. She' 
trembled, trembled all the time, day and night, and I be- 
gan to feel as if I should go wild if I could not get away 


10 


Why they Went. 

from the sight of her poor, patient face and her poor, 
little, tight-clenched hands. You know, she tried to keep 
still ; although she knew perfectly well she could not do 
it, she had to try.^’ 

Oh, Helena, how could you bear it ! 

‘^It was Milly — I wouldn^t have left her for the world. 
And people did not seem to notice it when they came in, 
because her father was so quiet always/' 

Oh, was he here ? What a good thing ! " 

‘‘ Yes, wasn't it ? He came down as soon as he heard 
from mother, and he is still here. Well, it was Sunday — 
the Sunday week after we were at the doctor's, and I was 
reading to her after dinner. The room was quiet and 
sunny, and the fire was burning clear^ and the book was 
interesting, and, altogether, I felt quite hopeful, when 
she said she thought it would rest her to sit up in her 
father’s armchair, if it were only for a minute. I told 
her she had been so good and obedient for a whole week, 
that I didn't believe it would do any harm, if I pushed the 
chair close to the bed and helped her into it. So I did it. 
I pushed the chair as close as I could, and she sat up and 
put her feet on the floor. Then I put my arm around her, 
— and in one second she dropped perfectly helpless and I 
felt her slipping away from me." 

Oh, Helena ! " 

I pulled her up as well as I could and ran and called 
her father out of his room. As soon as she saw him, she 
said, quietly : ‘ I don’t know what it is, papa. It is some- 
thing quite different from anything else, but don't be 
frightened. It doesn't hurt me.’ He took her in his 
arms, and laid her straight on her pillows, and kissed her 


11 


they Went, 

once. Then he harried off for the doctor. They are the 
bravest people ! Neither of them will ever show what he 
or she feels for fear it may worry the other/^ 

She had finislied with the bag in the interval of her 
story, and now sat on the bed, like a bird ready for flight 
and restless. 

From that time until this she has lain — like one dead. 
She can not move from her neck down, except that she 
can lift one hand, sometimes, a very little way. The 
doctors have been here in shoals ; they have done every- 
thing they can think of, but nothing brings any change. 
She does not suffer while she lies still — not even their ex- 
periments can hurt her — but when they try to raise her 
to sit up, the pain is dreadful. So — I wrote you to come 
home.’’ She flnished abruptly and uncertainly. 

Of course, I should be at home. The idea of mother 
and you doing all there must be to do ” 

Yes — but — it wasn’t that. I wanted to see — to talk 
to you.” 

I wonder why you did not write for me sooner. You 
only said she wasn’t well, and you know, — she never has 
been that since we knew her.” 

No.” 

What are they going to do now ? Not go back to the 
boarding-house ? ” 

No, they can not. The doctors — and, for once, they 
all agree — say that the only hope for her is to go at once 
to some quiet place, mountain or seaside, and, if it 
agrees with her at all, stay there. Dr. Morton— he’s her 
own doctor — says she must not go for weeks or for months, 
but for years. That is to be the understanding. He 


12 


Why they We^it. 

thinks that will give her a sense of rest and stability that 
will help her, because the dreadful strain of last winter, 
and the always looking for something nerve-destroying 
and painful to witness, brought this on, and she must not 
even look for a sudden noise or a change of any kind. 
At least, that’s the way it sounded to me when I heard 
him talking to mother, and, I am sure, after the last two 
weeks of always fearing I don’t know what, I can under- 
stand such a cure as that.” 

It will be a great change for her. She has never lived 
in the country in her life, has she ? ” 

While she was at the convent.” 

Oh, that’s not living — not home! That’s an ideal 
existence, you know.” 

But this is not the country, Frank. It is to be the 
seaside or the mountains. Think of it ! ” 

There was a silence, brief but living. 

Have you been thinking of it, Helena ? Is that what 
you wanted to talk to me about ? ” 

Frank, you are the quickest creature ! Yes, I did 
want to talk of it.” 

You don’t want to go with her — to nurse her, not 
even if it is Milly. You couldn’t. You are not strong 
enough.” 

No, I know I am not, but ” 

But I am ! ” — springing to her feet. There is where 
it lies, the whole thing in a nutshell ! You will go, Helena ! 
And I shall go ! And Mrs. Edward Marsden will go ! I 
see it all in a flash.” 

Oh, Frank, how can you ? Mother has never thought 
of such a thing, and, really, it will be an undertaking for 


13 


Why they Went. 

her — for us. It wouldn’t be all roses and lilies, you know. 
Housekeeping in a strange place in warm weather, and 
with an invalid — and we are pretty lazy and ease-loving.” 

** I have never seen the time when it was all roses and 
lilies. And housekeeping in warm weather has its draw- 
backs, even when you have lived in the place since Adam 
was oakum boy in Chatham dockyard, as father used to 
say. As for the invalid, — it couldn’t be half as hard for 
any one else as it will be for her. And it is Milly,. too.” 

Yes, it is Milly.” 

There was a wistfulness in Helena’s voice and eye 
that pleaded for this dear Milly, although she conscien- 
tiously set forth all the drawbacks of the plan she and 
her sister had at once seized upon as ^Hhe best thing to 
be done.” 

^‘Dreams, idle dreams !” suddenly exclaimed Frank, 
stopping in the middle of a sentence. And all the time, 
Mr. Aveling will arrange it to suit Mr. Aveling, and Mrs. 
Edward Marsden may respectfully decline to let her 
daughters rule her life, be it ever so comfortably for her. 
But — if it can be done, we go to Gray Beach, Helena. To 
Gray Beach, and I keep the house, and you keep the 
house, and I nurse Milly and you amuse her, and onr 
mother and our friend get all the good out of this summer 
it has in it for them, and we get all we ought to have. 
It will be that discipline you are so fond of wishing you 
had, without the trouble of getting it. Eh, Helena ? ” 

'' Don’t call it by such a hard name ! I am sure I 
ought to be forever ashamed of myself if I should not 
find pleasure in caring for that dear, patient, loving crea- 
ture. It ought to be only pleasure.” 


14 


Why they Went. 

But, Helena — you’re ‘real nice/ as Douce Davy Daw- 
kins says of you, but you are — lazy. Now, own up, won’t 
you ? And — can I see Milly ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! She’s in the west room. Oh, but I am 
glad to have you home once more ! And I never asked 
you how they were, but never mind now ! We can talk 
all we like later on.” 

She opened the door into a narrow passage, and led the 
way to a room on the other side of it. It was a larger 
room, and furnished with newer and handsomer furniture, 
and having the added charm of an old-fashioned grate, 
in which still burned — although it was April — a bright 
fire. It was a high, projecting grate, throwing its glow 
well over the room, and over the white draped bed upon 
which rested a shadow felt, though unseen. A very deli- 
cate, pale, dark-eyed face looked up from a pillow that 
scarcely raised the curly head from the line of the recum- 
bent figure — looked up with a calm serenity that would 
have moved the strongest heart, knowing all. 

“ Oh, Frank, is it you ! Why, no one told me you 
were here. I thought Helena must be out. How well 
you look ! Come closer to me that I may get a good look. 
Have you come home to stay ? ” 

It was easier for Frank to smile brightly as she moved 
around the bed than to speak naturally. 

“ You were having a lovely time, I could see in every 
line of your last letter, and Helena did not say you were 
coming.” 

“She did not tell me you were ill until her last letter. 
Of course, I came after that.” 

“ It was too bad to come upon them for a visit only. 


> 


15 


Wliy they Went, 

and then put them to such trouble. The very thing 
Helena hates most, too. Has she told you all of it ? ” 
Yes, we have had time for quite a long talk,^' said 
Frank, hurriedly. The doctors were here — they came 
in the train with me. Oh, I have such lots of things to 
tell you ! And I have lots of violets for you, too, from 
the Bloomsbury girls. They caught me on the way up 
from the station, and Kitty said I should tell you the 
boys were all off to college now, and she could protect 
her beds, and you are to have plenty. Let me get them ! 

She hurried out, and Helena, following her in a minute 
or two, found her sobbing on the stairs. 

Oh, it’s too, too dreadful for anything ! So young 
and so bright and like death itself ! Oh, Helena, we 
must take care of her — you’ll have to do it yourself, if it 
can’t be managed the other way. She never, never can 
be left to strangers.” 

That was the beginning of it — the way they came to go. 


CHAPTER 11. 


WHO THEY WERE WHERE THEY WEKT. 

Mrs* Edward Marsdeh and her two daughters had 
always lived at Roseburn, the home that had been hers 
from her birth, as it had been her mother’s before her. 
Mr. Marsden, coming from another hemisphere, but 
always like one of ourselves ” to the Loring family after 
Margaret married him, had made Roseburn his home 
after a roving life, and sometimes there, sometimes at 
the other end of the earth, had made it, on the whole, a 
very happy and comfortable home for his wife and 

babies,” as he called his daughters even yet. At the 
time of Milly Aveling’s sudden seizure, he was in South 
America, where he had gone to establish a business enter- 
prise which should crown his life of exertion, and which 
would require another year of absence. During that 
absence — the first for a long time — Mrs. Marsden had 
brought her daughters home from their convent school, 
for she was really too lonely and too delicate to be left to 
the care of servants alone. Together, they had passed a 
busy, earnest year, not the less happy because they had 
Milly Aveling with them much of the time. 

The Avelings were a lonely pair. 

Their family had never numbered more than three, 
and that so loug ago Milly could only dimly recall the 


17 


Wlio they Were and Where they Went, 

time. A delicate mother and a delicate child, the two 
had so softened the sterner and fiercer nature of the 
third that by the time the mother faded out of life, the 
father alone was fitted to care for the child. Hers was a 
peculiar and sensitive organization, which she could 
neither explain nor control, but which he accepted with 
perfect and tender confidence. They got on admirably 
together, and loved each other fondly. She was a quiet 
little thing, shy be^mnd words, and, yet, she could be 
strangely and bravely obstinate at times. Left to her- 
self, she went on harmlessly enough, but she had antipa- 
thies, and suspicions, and unconscious impulses toward 
things of which she knew nothing, that would have made 
the life of any stranger having her in charge a path of 
thorns and pitfalls. Mr. Aveling knew this, and kept 
his own counsel, and took his own way. With a staid 
old nurse, and a cool-headed, sensible landlady, he 
boarded year after year in a quiet, well-kept boarding- 
house. Milly was carefully nursed through her many 
attacks of illness, dressed with due attention to simple 
good taste, taken on visits here and there to different 
relatives — they all lived at a distance from the city where 
were centered all Mr. Aveling’s business interests— and 
left safely to herself in many ways. Lonely she certainly 
was, but lonely she must have been in the most crowded 
home where he could have placed her during that child- 
hood. Her mother had sufficed for her. No one could fill 
her place, but her father — left entirely to her— made a 
place for himself that satisfied her. And, at the proper 
time, she had one of her impulses. Just when he began 
to feel anxious as to the next step, she chose to go to 


18 


Who they We7'e mid Where they Went, 

school, and chose to go to St. Hilda^ mountain eyrie 
that chained her fancy on the way to her father’s old 
home. By no means a Catholic, Mr. Aveling was not 
averse to the idea on inquiry, and was well pleased to 
leave her in perfect safety, in a healthy atmosphere, 
physical, mental, and moral. There she met Helena 
Marsden, and, from the first, they had found what they 
loved in each other. Helena was the elder of the two, 
but Milly was older than her years, and the dependence 
her delicate childhood had fostered to complete reliance, 
in one way, on those near her who were kindest to her, 
leaned with unquestioning trust on the bright, yet 
placid, nature of her companion. Frank was also at 
school, and the three had looked forward to several years 
longer of intercourse and study, when the Marsdens were 
summoned home. Milly had continued at school without 
them, for there was now stamina and strength in the still 
delicate creature to struggle with herself, make the best 
of what was really very good, and gain all she could from 
it. But she had been put to a new school and had harder 
tasks set her. Her father was taken very ill, and she 
was hurried home with little hope that he would ever 
need her. Instead of sudden and hopeless grief, however, 
there followed a long period of helpfulness and sympathy 
with his sufferings. AYith perfect unselfishness and a girl’s 
innocent ignorance of her own strength or weakness, she 
devoted herself to him day and night for weeks, watching 
and nursing him with growing skill that cast a new light 
on her character and abilities, and with exhaustive 
energy, that had resulted in her present condition. Her 
father had been going leisurely to business for several 


19 


Who they Were and Where they Went. 

weeks, and had, indeed, been out of danger since the first 
of the year. The greater part of that time she had been 
corning and going with Helena, now at Roseburii for a 
day or two, and now returning to the city with Helena as 
her guest. The regular visit during which she had been 
prostrated was one made while Frank was away with her 

chum,” a time that could not be passed in loneliness by 
Mrs. Marsden. Fortunately, Roseburn was but a few 
miles distant from the city of the Avelings’ residence, and 
her father was thus within easy reach when she needed 
him, and able to remain at her side except at suitable times, 
when he could leave her to attend to the business that he 
was putting in order for an absence on Iris part, intended 
to entirely restore his shattered health. 

Roseburn was a lovely old place. The house was large 
enough for comfoi’t, but without pretensions. Older 
than the other residences of the family — for tire Lorings 
had a settlement in the county as old as the first settlers 
— it had a simple, quiet beauty, and the advantage, in a 
place where the summers are so warm, of a great deal of 
shade, many vines and a stately grove of old trees. Mr. 
Marsden had brought from his many voyages and enter- 
prises a number of quaint and curious and beautiful 
things to adorn the house, outside and within, and not a 
few foreign customs and fancies had been grafted on 
Mrs. Marsden’s old-fashioned ‘^family ways.” It was a 
delightful place to visit, for more than Milly Aveling, 
who was at home there. 

Still, the Marsden girls would not have been sorry 
many a time to have left Roseburn for a change.” But 
one of the old-fashioned ways Mrs. Marsden had never 


20 


Wio they Were and Where they Went 

modified was the belief that people were most comfort- 
able in their own home. She was most hospitable, al- 
ways ready for company, and she treated a guest like 
royalty itself. But she hated boarding and boarders, 
even at a summer hotel. She never had any trouble with 
her servants, therefore she was never broken down and 
worn out. Any delicacy of constitution she had to con- 
tend with had not faced in the direction of ^'nervous 
prostration.” 

Thus with all Frank Marsden’s sympathy for their 
friend and with honest devotion to her, she was conscious 
that there might be an outlook towards the realization 
of her favorite dream in this plan of hers and Helena’s. 
A summer at the seashore ! And her motlier could not 
say it would be wasted and useless with such an object 
in view. Thankful indeed that it seemed to lie directly 
in the path of duty, it was not many hours before she 
skilfully introduced Milly’s affliction, her present needs 
and possible future. 

Helena says the doctors insist on her going away,” 
she said to her mother, as they sat talking it over — the 
delight of their life was the talking oyer ” what inter- 
ested them — but who is to go with her ? She certainly 
needs some one more than her father now. Old Susan 
cannot nurse her — she’s too old — and she is miserable with 
strangers in the best of times. Any one he might get 
would only add to her nervousness.” 

Her mother assented, and then they pitied her for 
that. Frank was a wise woman for her years. She knew 
that pity would lead her mother far along the path love 
would have trodden for the best beloved, and, together. 


21 


Who they IVere and Where they Went. 

they were soon all warm sympathy and earnest anxiety to 
provide for the dear, suffering girl. What Frank and 
Helena had only sketched, Frank and her mother worked 
out in detail, supposing Mr. Aveling agreed. 

They could take a cottage at the seashore for the year 
of Mr. ^larsden’s absence, at least. Milly could have all 
the attention she might need exactly as either of them 
would have had it in her own home under the same con- 
ditions, and she would certainly be happier and more at 
rest with them than with any one else, to say nothing of 
the constant companionship of Helena. They could con- 
sult her every want, and need not go far from Dr. Mor- 
ton. Above all, they must be where Mr. Aveling could 
reach her often. 

“ And at the end of the year, if she has to stay longer 
and we have to come home, she will know exactly what 
she wants, and it will be easier to find it. She — she may 
be ever so much better,” but Frank’s voice shook a 
little, ‘*or she may even be quite well,” with a defiant 
cheerfulness, "" for I don’t think doctors know everything 
every time, do you, mother ? ” 

They make some mistakes. And a year is a long 
time. It means many, many things we hope for as well 
as many things we dread.” 

""Then, you will talk to Mr. Aveling about it when he 
begins worrying over Milly ? ” 

"" I certainly shall. One thing, dear ! AYe must make 
sure of a church and a priest. I will not go anywhere 
where they are not. And Mr. Aveling may not think it 
important. ” 

"" Mother, you shall go to Gray Beach. I liave set my 


22 


Who they Were and Where they Went. 

heart on that, and I know there is a lovely church among 
the pines, for I saw it in the two hours^ visit there. 
When it comes to discussing places, let me have my say.’’ 

It came to that no later than the next morning. 

Mr. Aveling came down from the city on the evening 
train, depressed and anxious beyond his usual custom. 
The doctors and he had had a long and exhaustive in- 
terview, and they had insisted upon what it seemed im- 
possible for him to do. Where could he take his poor 
child ? Who was there to look up places, weigh their 
advantages and disadvantages, consult her dislikes and her 
desires, nurse her, amuse her, prevent her brooding and 
anticipating evil ? And, yet, the doctors had repeated 
most decidedly: It is the only hope for her. ^'If she 
could only stay with you, Mrs. Marsden ! ” he ex- 
claimed. Of course I know it is impossible, but, 
really, I cannot but think it would be better for her here 
than among strangers, either on the mountains or at the 
seashore. But I know it is impossible.” 

‘‘Not at all impossible, Mr. Aveling. If we can make 
it practicable ” 

“ Mrs. Marsden, you don’t mean it ! ” 

The evident relief of the faintest hope was enough to 
have touched Mrs. Marsden’s heart, had it been needed. 
But she did mean it, and the two plunged at once into 
such a discussion of ways and means as could not but lead 
to harmonious results, and which was only broken in 
upon by Milly’s preparations for the night, when her 
father was called to lay her comfortably among her pil- 
lows — a thing no one else could do so well. 

It was resumed the next morning in full family con- 


23 


Who they Were and Where they Went. 

clave, Mr. Aveling’s eagerness evidently tempered only by 
the fear that a night^s reflection might have changed Mrs. 
Marsden^s mind. But a night’s sleeping on it and a short 
talk with Frank while dressing had kindled anew their 
enthusiasm. 

Oh, mother, you don’t know how lovely it is ! So 
fresh and pure and bracing, and so quiet ! It is the 
beauty of the sea I want, and not the people. I am 
sure, I have had enough of people here ! It will be a 
relief to live where you have a minute to call your own, 
and where there is time between trains when no one can 
come in on you unexpectedly. I do hate to live in 
public. Yet I like a real good time with people when it 
suits.” 

^‘1 think I shall like it,” said her mother, with a 
relish. And I am sure it will be the very place for 
Milly. I remember now hearing many things of Gray 
Beach in its praise.” 

And, mother, Helena and I are to do everything.. 
It will be such a chance for us to learn without putting 
you out of your ways. And you can have such a rest — 
reading and fancy work and writing to father all day 
long. You will remember, won’t you ? ” 

Mrs. Marsden was ready to go down-stairs, and forgot 
to answer. 

They settled before they left the breakfast table. Frank 
was to go at once to Gray Beach, looking for a cottage. 
Mr. Aveling was to make inquiries as to one or two other 
places of which he had heard the day before, and they 
would decide between them. 

It must be a cottage large enough for all to be com- 


24 Who they Were and Where they Went, 

fortable/’ said Mrs. Marsden, after the stipulation had 
been made regarding the church and the priest. 

I don’t care for any finery in the way of architecture, 
but I do want room.” 

But not for all,” said Mr. Aveling. I begin to see 
my way clear through a very dark passage. I had a plan 
to go out to join Mr. Marsden, and had just begun to 
formulate it. It is most important to me — and I think 
to him — that it should be carried out, for I have lost more 
than health in last winter’s sickness, and there is a 
promise of gaining more than health if we combine forces. 
If I leave Milly with you, I can go with an easy mind, 
and return, lam sure, with Mr. Marsden at an earlier date 
than he anticipates. We shall have all our treasure in one 
casket, here as well as there, and both be freer to act.” 

Frank, you must be quick ! You have half an hour,” 
said her mother. There was perfect unison in this house 
on all subjects on that day. 

When Frank walked in briskly from the train the next 
day, she swung her umbrella with a careless ease that 
was quite manly and independent. 

Well, ladies, I was right in all my predictions,” she 
said, with dimples coming and going around her merry 
lips, for all her assumption of nonchalance. You are 
all going to Gray Beach the first of May — ten days from 
to-day.” 

And I suppose you stay to take care of Eoseburn ?” 
questioned her mother, with comic gravity. 

I ? Not at all. I shall be at Gray Beach several days 
before that, and you are to find all things ‘ in order meet’ 
when you arrive.” 


CHAPTER III. 

GRAY BEACH. 

It was not a fashionable resort. A few summer cottages 
scattered irregularly along the bluff, a summer hotel with 
many porches, gray and unadorned as the bath-houses on 
stilts at the edge of the sands, a village of one wide street, 
pretty and foreign-looking from either end of its short 
length — this is Gray Beach. But it is beautiful, for it 
has the bluff and the pines and Great Bay. 

The cottages and the village are separated by a stretch 
of grass grown level on which the hotel has settled down 
at a comfortable distance from either, and behind the 
three lie the pine woods, growing taller and thicker and 
darker as they sweep away into the northwest horizon. 
Great Bay is beyond them, so wide and deep that its 
waves seem boundless as the ocean on the other side, and 
those early risers who care to see the sun rise gloriously 
from the waters on the east have only to walk up the 
village street, and through the pines at sunset to watch it 
sink as gloriously into the waters of the west. Tangled 
thickets and bowers of thick-leaved vines, tall grasses and 
still, clear ponds, are everywhere without the cottage 
gardens and the village limits, and away to the north, the 
salt meadows stretch endlessly. Far across them, the 
roofs and towers and steeples of a great, gay summer city 
glow in the sunset mists of a clear evening like those of 
an enchanted land. 


25 


26 


Gray Beach. 

The cottage which Frank had chosen for them was near 
the ocean and midway of the group upon the bluff. It 
was a large, square, flat-roofed and gaily painted house, 
with a lookout on top and a pleasant garden below, in 
which there was even an oak tree on the inland side. It 
was very close to the house, and rather a dwarf in spite 
of its shelter, but it was still young, and very green and 
fresh, early as it was in the season for green things grow- 
ing. Every window in the house seemed to have an ocean 
view, for a curve in the beach just here showed the heav- 
ing and tossing waters within a hundred yards of those 
on the east, while the north front looked down a wide, 
straight avenue directly into the waves curling and break- 
ing on the beach, half a mile away. On the south and 
west there were glimpses of the bay from the upper 
windows, where the village roofs and the tossing pines 
made rifts of brightness. There was but one sound, 
varied as the hours of the day — the music of the waves, 
rising and falling with the tides, lapping softly or swelling 
gradually to a thunderous roar. 

If it had been made for Milly it could not have been 
more exactly what is wanted ! ’’ exclaimed her father, 
when he saw it for the first time. 

He went down with Frank and the maids to make a 
list of essentials needed, and arrange for all the comforts 
he could think of in a busy three hours. Two days later, 
he returned with Milly and Helena, Mrs. Marsden re- 
maining with a double or treble purpose. In the first 
place, she wished to close the house at Roseburn and see 
that Terence and Mary were established there ; in the 
second place, Frank had begged to be allowed to get 


27 


Gray Beach, 

fixed and started before her mother entered upon the 
scene where her daughters were to keep house for her in- 
stead of her keeping it for them as had always been the 
case ; in the third place, she had an idea that it would be 
all the better for Milly to remember Roseburn open and 
cheerful and homelike as she had always seen it, instead 
of changed and gloomy as it would look at the last, if 
they all left it at the same time. As it was, the last look 
Milly carried away with her beheld the fiower-shaded 
windows, the cheerful glow of the fire within, and Mrs. 
Marsden in her dainty house-dress waving a bright good 
speed from the open door. 

It was after dark when they reached Gray Beach, and 
it had been a strange and unreal journey for all of them. 
Everything had been done to prepare Milly for it in the 
interval after the decision was made, and she had exerted 
herself as usual to the utmost to obey doctor, nurses, and 
her father. When it was thought best, she had been 
quiet for hours at a time, sleepless but with closed eyes. 
She had borne uncomplainingly the training to sit up, 
and had progressed from half a minute in her father's 
arms — the tears of agony rolling down her cheeks, and 
Helena marking the time, watch in hand — to five minutes, 
ten minutes, fifteen minutes at a time in the wheeled 
chair that was couch and stretcher as well. But that she 
was enduring a terrible strain and that her nerves had 
been shattered almost beyond her control, became more 
and more evident. Although silent, she was wild to get 
away, panting and breathless with longing, as it were, 
although no one knew why, and she least of all. 

The hour of departure came at last, and too helpless to 


2S Gray Beach. 

be dressed, folded in blankets on her chair-bed, and 
veiled from curious eyes, she was carried from her room 
to the carriage, driven into the city by slow stages, and 
placed on the train. There, contrary to all their fears, 
she was quite comfortable. The compartment that had 
been engaged for her was next the baggage car, and the 
official in charge was a fatherly and chivalrous soul to 
whom her helpless youth appealed strongly. He was, 
moreover, an American of Americans — one of those, that 
is, who would do all the good possible to king or beggar 
as he came in his way, with no other thought than that 
of doing good as he knew he could. With kindly warmth 
and sympathy that was not intrusive, he made his way 
into the anxious little group as they gathered round her, 
and with quiet suggestion and a powerful arm, moved the 
chair, and shifted it until it swayed with the vibrations 
of the train, and so secured it that she scarcely felt the 
motion. Then he managed to shield her from intrusion 
and, with the other employees, to stand guard between 
her and curiosity, and all with a consideration and 
delicacy the others shared. At some woodland station 
on the long ride, the train stopped a weary while, but 
when it started he came in with a great bunch of wild 
spring blossoms, sweet and frail as any pure-souled sutferer, 
and laid them on her helpless fingers very carefirlly and 
gently. 

Now, donT you say that the pine woods didnT wel- 
come you with the promise of better things,’’ he said, 
kindly. The good Lord who made them won’t forget 
you, either, when he shelters you among them.*’ 

And Milly, shrinking and fastidious, timid with stran- 


Gray Beach, S9 

gers ill health and reserved even towards her nearest and 
dearest as to any utterance of her deeper thoughts, un- 
derstood and accepted the comfort of his simple words, 
and thanked him with a smile that almost brightened her 
pale and pensive face. 

It was he who thought of telegraphing for something 
other than the usual hack or wagon to meet them at their 
journey’s end. There would be a drive of several miles — 
all the way, indeed, from the gay city by the sea across 
the salt meadows — and he spoke of a wagon large enough 
to carry the wheeled chair at full length ; he could order 
such a one and he did. 

It was waiting when they arrived, and, with all tender- 
ness and kindness, she was lifted by strange hands into 
its capacious, canvas-covered depths, and set face to- 
wards her new home with a shower of good wishes and 
many an unspoken prayer from stranger hearts to accom- 
pany her. There is a great deal of curiosity in the world, 
but it is none the less a fact that it goes hand-in-hand 
more often than we know with blessed charity and heaven- 
born sympathy. When it does not, man or woman, boy 
or girl, who finds within his or her heart the first inkling 
of a curiosity which is not kindly, and which would not 
spend or be spent to heal or to help where misfortune of 
any kind awakens it, may hide in disgrace from the eyes 
of all fellow-men. Only God can pity or bear with the 
curious and unkindly, so little and so mean are they to all 
who do not and cannot see the whole story of a life at 
once. 

The ride across the salt meadows was less successful 
than the journey by rail. It was rugged and broken in 


30 


Gray Beach, 

the roadway, not level on the side track, and impossible 
to brace or place the chair securely. Exhausted, excited, 
timid and unprepared for it in every way, Milly lay as on 
the rack. Her father knelt supporting her, and Helena 
did her best to relieve her from a single jolt or jar, but a 
thrill of actual relief shot through every one, when the 
driver pointed across the gray level to a glowing, gleam- 
ing row of windows with the announcement : 

There’s your house now ! That’s Ocean Cottage.” 
The wheels tracked smoothly from that minute, and 
with a bold sweep, the wagon soon drew up at the open 
gate of the pretty little yard. Frank was on the porch, 
and the maids in the open doorway, while Albert — 
Albert the Right Hand,” as the girls called him — was 
already on the green before the gate, his homely black 
face a most familiar greeting. 

Five minutes more, and Milly was laid upon her own 
bed in a white chamber, where the stillness and the fresh- 
ness and the remembrance of the wide sky and the wide 
sea and the fresh, fair earth around her brought to her 
a sense of peace and rest long unknown. 

It is over ! ” she exclaimed with fervent thankful- 
ness in the very tone. Xow — noio I can be quiet ! ” 

And they knew Dr. Morton was right in the cure on 
which he placed all his hope. 

The first night was a very curious one to all of them. 
The lower story had been prepared for them, with a view 
to Milly’s convenience, should she soon be able to go out 
in her chair, or even from room to room on the same 
floor, and there was a sense of unrest in the very fact that 
they were down-stairs instead of up-stairs at bedtime. 


31 


Gray Beach. 

Milly was the first to sleep, for she was tired to exhaus- 
tion, but Helena wandered from room to room and from 
window to window until dawn, half frightened, half 
fascinated by the weird lights, the wide sky, the shadow- 
less pallor of night on the brink of the ocean. Then there 
was a strange, alternate darkening and lightening of the 
heavens and all beneath them that confused her. Did 
she or did she not see more clearly sometimes than 
others ? She surely did, for the shadow and the light 
passed onward and returned in regular, slow succession 
as she watched and debated. It was like the sweep of 
mighty wings — an angel of light passing from darkness 
to darkness with a blessing and never growing weary. In 
an instant, it flashed upon her — the lighthouse with its re- 
volving light. She had forgotten it, but there is one at 
Gray Beach, and so near the group of cottages tliat they 
hide its tower- from each other, tall as it is. But over 
their roofs, the mighty radiance streams forth and marks 
its presence to the dwellers under its very eaves no less 
than to the sea-rocked wanderer. 

The thought of this sleepless watcher brought peace. 
It was good to lie thus under the shadow of its wings, 
the glorious shadow. And from an open-eyed dream of 
the angel of light and .his messengers, Helena slipped 
into a slumber-vision of those great wings coming to the 
white chamber and its inmate with healing in their 
radiance and blessing in their shadow.^’ 

She found the next day that Albert was the only one of 
the household who had shared her terrors in any way, 
and she alone could sympathize with the poor fellow when 
he attempted to unburden his soul. To be sure, they 


32 


Gray Beach. 

were accustomed long before to take Albert’s confidences 
with a discount. He was an odd character for whose in- 
troduction they were indebted to their father, who had 
found him penniless, fever-stricken and homesick unto 
death in the far West, and had brought him home witli 
him. Long since, he had become ‘^Albert the Right 
Hand” to them, a regularly constituted ‘"emergency 
man ” upon whom they called for any extra service re- 
quired. He was born a slave, the property of “my ole 
Mis” — he never gave her any other name — and she had 
raised him “in de house,” half pet and half page, until 
she died and he was freed by the war. The two things 
occurred about the same time, and Albert must have been 
a well grown lad, although they had no means of arriv- 
ing at his exact age. But he had learned many things 
from “ ole Mis ” which he never wasted time in forget- 
ting. He could wash and iron, cook and clean, act as 
coachman, gardener, night-watchman, Avaiter-boy, and 
Pullman palace car porter. He had been nurse in a 
hospital, gentleman’s body servant, whitewasher, police- 
man, painter, and telegraph messenger. In short, Albert 
was always ready, always wanting something to do, always 
obedient, always penniless, and always grumbling when 
alone — or when he thought himself alone — and Avith it 
all, he was still by nature and at heart the old-fashioned 
slave. He must “ belong ” to some “ folks,” and forth- 
with adopted the Marsden family. In all their interests 
he had a share, in all their misfortunes he Avas a mourner, 
and in all their successes he was a tinkling cymbal of de- 
light and praise. Frank had brought him Avith her at his 
OAvn request, he feeling assured — with a good deal of jus- 


33 


Gray Beach, 

tice — that they two could make the desert wilderness of 
a rented cottage blossom like the rose of home in less 
dan no time.’’ 

Miss Helena,” he said, the next day, the first time he 
could sidle up to her and open one of his confidential 
communications, ^^does yer like dis yer Gray Beach? 
Does yer raley now ? ” 

‘^Indeed, I do ! Why ? Don’t you like it ?” 

I sutinly does not,” with a mysteriously solemn shake 
of the head. Dat dar sea — I hain’t never seed no sea 
’fore dis yer one — I sutinly don’t like hit ! ” — with strong 
emphasis. 

Why, Albert ! ” broke in Frank, who was close at 
hand, you never said anything about it before. I 
thought you were getting on remarkably well. You 
haven’t even grumbled when you thought I couldn’t hear 
you.” 

Now den. Miss Frank ! you please don’t say notin’ 
’bout dat. I dess naterally has to talk dat way when I 
bleeged to be my lonesome self. An yis’day, I hain’t seed 
hit yit. But las’ night I seed hit ! You min’ dat 
now. ” 

He was walking out of the room in great stateliness, 
carrying his dishes before him as the royal crown of Great 
Britain is borne before Her Majesty the Empress of 
Great Britain and the Indies, and his very oracular lips 
tight shut above his secret. 

‘^Oh, Albert ! Stop ! Tell us what you saw.” 

I hain’t got no time to stop now. Miss Frank. You 
know I dess got to quit dis yer foolin’. Dar’s Miss Milly 
— she waitin’ on you ladies.” 

3 


34 


Gray Beach, 

‘‘But, Albert, what did you see?’^ interposed Helena, 
in her quieter and more yielding tones. 

“Well, Miss Helena, dat dar way it keejos a lightin’ 
lip an’ a lightin’ up an’ a lightin’ up. Dat is sutinly 
cur’ous. An’ I don’t like it nohow.” 

“ The lighthouse, Helena ! ” exclaimed Frank, after 
a minute’s thought, during which he had marched away. 
“He thinks it the sea flashing. Well, I must own that 
would be rather mysterious and alarming. But I wonder 
he did not see it before last night. Oh ! we had a fog.” 

“I shall certainly explain it to him to-night,” said 
Helena^ secretly sympathizing. 


CHAPTEE IV. 


WHAT THEY FOUND THERE. 

And now that we are here, Frank, and you have al- 
most made the house over again into our home, I want 
you to tell me something about the places and the people. 
Where is the church, to begin with ? ” 

There, under the steeple, taking her by the arm 
and turning her towards the pine woods, where the bluest 
of skies was pierced by a slender spire uplifting a shining 
cross. St. Monica by the Sea. You never saw a more 
beautiful spot for a church. There is a priesFs house 
close beside it, in a little garden of roses and honeysuckle, 
but I waited for you to go with me — or mother — to call on 
the priest.’^ 

Well, I should think so ! 

But I have asked all the questions I could think of, 
and he seems a very round-about man. I mean, a man 
who is something different to every other man.” 

Asked ? Whom have you asked ? ” 

The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker. 
Don’t I know what it used to be around Eoseburn be- 
fore the fine city folks moved out in numbers and set up 
new fashions and new manners that spoiled it ? Then 
if you had asked any one for information you ought to 
have, any one would have given you a truthful and kindly 

answer. The butcher — that’s the postmaster — told me he 

35 


36 


What They Found There, 

was an old gentleman, very quiet and religious ; the baker — 
he’s the storekeeper — says he’s a young fellow, pretty 
sickly looking ; the candlestick-maker — meaning the car- 
penter — praises him as a stoutish kind of middle-aged man, 
who can preach like a house afire, and no mistake. Now, 
isn’t that an all-around man, or a round-about man, 
whichever you like ? But they are not Catholics, the 
butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker. I think very 
few of the people are, except in summer time. Those two 
cottages opposite to us are Catholic cottages, the carpenter 
told me, and, then, the priest’s little house is used for 
rest and recuperation, even by the Bishop. Oh ! you 
needn’t fear. You can go to church all summer. No 
slipping out of it and slipping over your conscience 
because the church is too far off, or the weather too wet or 
too windy or too warm or too anything. You’ll just have 
to go, Helena, every time Sunday or a saint’s day stares 
you in the face from the calendars.” 

I am sure I always do go ! ” exclaimed Helena in- 
dignantly. 

‘‘But you don’t always want to go, do you ? I know 
I don’t. It makes no difference how much I preach to 
myself, nor how much I pretend to despise myself for it, 
I go on not wanting to, all the same. It does me good, 
though, to remember that as soon as I turn the first 
corner on the way to Mass, I would not go back for the 
world, and I never heard Mass in my life without being 
thankful I was there, thankful for every minute of the 
time. But ” — with a sudden pause — “ that’s just where it 
is, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Where what is ? ” 


37 


What They Found There. 

Why, the reason for the commandment to hear Mass 
on every Sunday and holyday. If every one always wanted 
to go to Mass, there would never he any use for that com- 
mandment. They would all go every time they had the 
chance, don’t you see ? Well ! that may be wisdom and 
it may not. It doesn’t concern us, at any rate. There 
is the commandment and here we are ; we know what we 
have to do and we shall do it. There is not a shadow of 
excuse for any of us — except Milly, and she wouldn’t have 
to go if she was well.” 

The sisters were out for their first walk together, and 
they had turned inland. Each had tried the two beach 
paths — one up and one down — at the first minute pos- 
sible after their arrival. Now, they had skirted tlie hotel 
— closed until the beginning of the season ” — on the 
wide, low porches, crossed the green on the otlier side, and 
reached the village street, where the steep-roofed cottages 
stood each in its trim garden, shell-bordered and vine- 
trellised. Even the village store stood back from tlie 
street, and from the broad, scrupulously swept middle way 
that led from the gate to the door, winding paths diverged 
to right and left through flowery vistas. No person ap- 
peared to disturb the impression of a sleeping population 
as they passed on into the woods and to the church. 

It was gray, of course, with lancet windows of colored 
glass, and the little porch sheltered a finely-arched gothic 
door of solid oak. There was a small, smooth green be- 
fore the door which showed careful attention. 

The door yielded to a touch and they entered where all 
was churchlike, serene, and peaceful in a golden atmos- 
phere where the very motes hung motionless. The eastern 


38 


Wiat They Found There. 

window over the altar bore a single device — the Sacred 
Heart on a white background, and the altar beneath it 
was fair and fine. It was of solid oak, also, graceful in 
form and simple, but perfectly adorned with carving. A 
silver sanctuary lamp burned before the tabernacle, and 
they knelt reverently, putting aside curiosity and criticism 
until they had done homage. Isn’t it pretty ? ” ex- 
claimed Frank, when they turned homeward after a sui> 
vey of the surroundings and of the priest’s house, nes- 
tling among vines, its wide veranda comfortably set forth 
with rustic chairs, one of which held the edition of the 
priest as described pretty sickly looking.” Do you 
know, a church in the wilderness — well, this does seem 
like a wilderness — is always more churchlike than a church 
in the city ? It is so pure and unsullied, so fragrant and 
suggestive of holiness all around it. But, tlien, a city 
church is more needed. Think of the sick hearts and sad 
hearts and stained hearts that are carried into a city church 
every day ! It is sentiment to feel as I do about a country 
church.” 

^^Is there anything wrong in sentiment?” questioned 
Helena. ^^The thing is to reverence and value a church 
wherever you find one, I think. But a thought came to 
me in there. Do you remember that legend — or, was it 
only a saying of old ? — that Father Faber mentions in one 
of his books, about Our Lord going to and fro over the 
earth during the forty days before His Ascension, and 
touching with His sacred feet every spot on which there 
was ever to be an altar ? I thought He must have reded 
when He stood here. It was a. comfort to think it. I so 
often think of rest as a blessing now. I never used to 


What They Found There. 39 

care for it at all, and I don’t need it now. But — being 
with Milly ” 

She broke off abruptly. 

‘‘ Yes, I know,” said Frank. Being with Milly makes 
a difference in many things. I never used to think of 
anything but having a real good time, but now ” 

And she, too, paused. They walked on in silence for 
some time, and then began to note features of the village 
to report to Milly. She had improved in the two or three 
days she had been there, and, still at full length on her 
chair^ was wheeled in to the table to dinner or to lunch as 
suited her. To lie there listening and occasionally join- 
ing in the merry chatter was a change from the sick-room 
habit which had not yet become second nature to her be- 
fore it was disturbed. 

Do look at Albert, will you ! ” exclaimed Frank. 
‘‘Where can he have been ? lie is a walking nosegay.” 

He was coming toward them on the beach with his 
grandest air, weighed down with an enormous bouquet of 
lilac, green cedar sprays, and some branches of yellow 
blossoms, delicately starring long brown twigs. His face 
was on a broad grin, yet wore an expression best char- 
acterized as sheepish. 

“ He’s been up to some mischief, I know,” said Frank. 
“ Telling stories of some sort. I never can teach him to 
tell the truth, whether he means it or not.” 

Helena stopped and Albert came to a halt, turning his 
bouquet insinuatingly to and fro, without a word. 

“AVhere did you get those flowers, Albert? Do they 
grow around here ? Oh ! how sweet they are.” 

“ Dey’s for Miss Milly.” 


40 


What They Found There, 

Are they ? She will be so pleased to get them— a breath 
of spring, indeed. But where did you get them ? I would 
really like to know if they belong here.'’’ 

’Deed dey does. Dey belongs to de little lady in de 
gray house wid de blue rim round de shuttahs. She’s de 
littles’ lady I eber see, ’ceptin’ dat Yankee lady dat hadn’ a 
teaspoonful of grease in her whole body. You ’members 
her. Miss Frank ? ” 

I remember Mrs. Darnley, if you mean her. How 
came this lady to give you the flowers ? Did she say they 
were for Miss Milly ? ” 

Now, Miss Frank ! In cose she didn’ say dat, but she 
say, didn’ I come wid de Ocean Cottage folks, an’ didn’ 
der be a young lady or a young gal dat was sick, an’ didn’ I 
hab to say dat was Miss Milly ? An’ den she say she hab 
dese yer fer her. An’ here dey is.” 

“ How very kind ! ” 

What else did yon say, Albert ?” 

I didn’ say miffin’. Miss Frank. I dess tole her much 
obleeged, an’ our folks bery fon’ ob flowers, an’ de young 
ladies, dey do demselves de privilege ob callin’ on her an’ 
sayin’ howdy rite smart soon, case our folks rigular quality 
folks. What you tink I say. Miss Frank ? I hain’t got 
time go bustin’ about sayin’ notin’, nohow. I got ter git 
home rite now wid dis yer posy fer Miss Milly.” 

As he shuffled away, the girls looked at each other with 
expressive countenances. 

Helena ! ” said Frank, if you encourage any of his 
nonsense down here, I shall be too angry at you. These 
people are strangers to us, and what will they think ? ” 

They ought not to think any harm of such courtesy 


41 


What They Found There, 

as that, I am sure. We shall have to live up to such 
trumpeting as his. I wonder what sort of a little lady we 
are engaged to call upon. Do you know the house he 
means ? 

‘"Yes, I think I do. It is not very near our own. He 
must have had quite a walk with his bouquet, for it is in 
quite the other direction, and you see he has turned off to 
cross country and get home before us. It is the only cot- 
tage down here that is open all winter. The lady lives in 
it all the year round, and enjoys every season in turn. 
She has it fitted up in rather odd, but very prett}", style. 
As Albert said, it is gray with " blue rims round the shut- 
tahs.^ There is Milly on the porch with her bouquet be- 
fore her. And there is mother ! 

She flew off like a lapwing over the sands, and Helena 
followed her almost as swiftly. There was a perfect babel 
of voices for the next hour, and Milly held her own right 
gallantly in it. Mrs. Marsden saw the greatest change in 
her, and hope rose in each breast as they compared notes, 
and chatted over "" here, there, and everywhere,’’ and the 
people belonging to each j)lace. 

Albert’s offering came in for its due notice. He had 
been more explicit with Milly, and a really kindly message 
had been sent by the little lady with her flowers. Again 
that evidence of compassion and interest in the sufferer, 
unknown and unheralded. The girls repeated Albert’s in- 
troduction of "" our folks” to the stranger, and the engage- 
ment into whiclrhe had entered for them. 

"" Shall we go, mother ? ” asked Helena. 

"" I think not ! ” interrupted Frank. 

"" Indeed, 1 shouldn’t wonder if you did go,” decided 


42 • W/ia^ They Found There. 

Mrs. Marsden. “I believe the lady is Miss Hilson, whose 
cousin I met yesterday at your Aunt Janets. She seemed 
delighted to hear that her cousin would probably have 
neighbors of a more enduring quality than usual, and told 
me more pleasant things about Gray Beach. I promised to 
carry a message to Miss Hilson for her, and I must not 
keep it until it gets stale.” 


CHAPTER V. 


milly's first caller. 

As afterwards appeared, Albert had paraded the village, 
bouquet in hand, and had delivered several sidewalk 
orations as to its destination. The story of the sick 
lady’’ went abroad with many variations, but one thing 
became fixed in all minds — her love of flowers. It was 
evidently one that the children of Gray Beach understood 
and shared with her. Scarcely a day passed now without 
an offering of some kind, usually left without a word 
of greeting or introduction, and by very small and grimy 
hands. Helena and Frank tried in vain to make acquaint- 
ance with their small neighbors. Milly asked question 
after question about them, and grew gently indignant be- 
cause they could not answer them to her satisfaction. 

I candidly confess,” said Frank, ^Hliat I am afraid 
of children. I am shy with them, and I am shy with no 
other class of people in the world. But they look at you 
with such solemn eyes, and they may take you down any 
minute with some remark too awfully truthful or too 
blandly outrageous for anything. I suppose these are like 
other children, but they look wiser.” 

^MYiser ? Is that it?” questioned Helena. They 
certainly do stare at you in dumb silence as if they were 

taking notes of your good and bad qualities in utter amaze- 

43 


44 Millifs First Caller, 

ment. But there is one little beauty, Milly. I wish you 
could see her/’ 

I will see her,” decided Milly at last, to the surprise 
of all. She had been painfully shy hitherto, shrinking 
from the sight of every one but ^^our folks,” and not to be 
persuaded to go out on the beach in her chair, be the sun 
and the balmy breeze e.ver so tempting. Unlike Frank, 
she was neither afraid of children, nor shy with them. 
She had that power of attraction which always makes it 
easy to control them, and to bring out all that is in them 
at its best. And it Avas to the children she was to owe the 
quickening interest of participation in the life of the out- 
side Avorld. 

She had not long to wait for an introduction to the 
Avorld of Gray Beach. That afternoon there was ushered 
into her room — according to orders — a small stranger in a 
pink sunbonnet and a pink gingliam apron. For Miss 
Millj'^,” announced the maid, and closed the door, leaving 
just within it the tiny caller. She hung her head, grasp- 
ing one of her long beautiful braids in one hand while 
the other drooped at her side Avith a heavy branch of some 
fragrant shrub. 

Did you bring those sAveet flowers to me ? ” — and Milly 
held out one hand the very little way she could lift it. 

How very kind you are to me ! I am sure you have 
brought me flowers before, haven’t you ?” 

The pink sunbonnet nodded vigorously and then sank 
lower on the pink gingham breast. 

I thought so ! I have asked a great many questions 
about the Gray Beach little folks, and I have heard a 
great many things. Won’t you come over near my 


45 


Milly's First Caller, 

chair ? I slionld like to know you wherever we may meet, 
and some time you miglit leave your pretty pink bonnet 
at home. That is all I can see iiow.^’ 

The bonnet moved in the direction of the recumbent 
figure and stopped. Then, it was slowly lifted, and from 
under its frilled edge peeped forth a very pretty face, 
round, dimpled, bright-eyed, and smiling roguishly. 
Evidently, there was only the first awkwardness of an in- 
troduction to overcome. But it was not yet conquered. 

Please give me my flowers, won’t you ” coaxed Milly. 
‘‘I want to hold them in my own hand, they are so sweet. 
I don’t know even their names. I never lived where I 
could run about and pick flowers.” 

The bright eyes dimmed with a sudden pity, and the 
blossoms were hurried into the white, frail fingers with a 
cordial alacrity that banished shyness. ‘^These ain’t so 
very pretty. I can get you lots prettier than these.” 

^^Do you know the name of every one of them, too ? ” 
Yes, indeedy ! And so does Em’ly and Annie and all 
of them. That new girl from over at the Point knows 
‘ more than any of us, though. But she isn’t so very 
nice. Grandmother don’t like her because she’s colored.” 

The expression of cautious reserve as she spoke of this 
latest comer sat comically upon her pink and white coun- 
tenance. The ice was broken now, and it was not allowed 
to freeze over again. Milly learned that her visitor’s 
name was Leila, that she lived with her grandmother — 
^^and grandfather” was an afterthought — that she had 
no brothers Jior sisters, that she went to school most 
days,” that there would soon be strawberries up in the 
woods, and that Em’ly and Annie and Ruthy and Mander 


46 


Milly's First Caller. 

and the new girl from the Point, and ^^all the Netterleys, 
the whole six of them’’ wanted to see her ‘^as bad as any- 
thing.” By that time, Helena felt the interview was 
growing too lengthy, and she came in to note its effect. 
With quick instinct the little maid took up her bonnet, 
—she had taken it off that Milly might admire her braids 
and see how much they had grown since she had the chills- 
anfever” (all in one word) — and putting it on, put on her 
wise old woman’s air with it. 

“I guess I better go now,” she said sedately. Grand- 
mother says I must never stay as long as 1 want in any- 
body’s house but hers, or I might stay too long. And 
grandfather — he’s awful funny — said I mustn’t make my 
friends twice glad. So I’ll go.” 

But — how could you make them twice glad ?” asked 
Helena. 

The bright eyes looked at her sharply. 

You were glad to see me come, wasn’t you ?” — turn- 
ing to Milly. 

Indeed, I was very glad ! ” 

Well, that was once. If I stay till you get tired of 
me, you’ll be glad to see me go, won’t you ? That would 
be twice glad. But you ain’t tired, are you ? ” 

It was such an anxious little face under the pink sun- 
bonnet now that Milly had to speak very eagerly and ear- 
nestly when she declared that she was not at all tired, and 
there was not the least danger of making her twice glad. 
She must come soon again. 

And you must come and see us, soon as you’re better. 
It’ll do you good. Grandmother’ll like it if you’ll come 
too, most any time,” she added politely to Helena. Only 


Milly^s First Caller. 47 

1 can't tell her a single one of your names because I don't 
know them." 

The first part of this speech was in her oldest manner — 
her grandmother's, no doubt — but the last was a cute little 
expression of natural curiosity, very innocently clever. It 
was very pleasantly gratified. 

“ Oh, that is too bad ! " said Helena. We might have 
forgotten that if you had not mentioned it. This is- 
Milly, the one you came to see, and to whom you children 
and every one is so good and kind. She is Milly Aveling." 

And this is Helena Marsden," introduced Milly. The 
tall girl with the long hair is her sister, Frank Marsden. 
Can you remember them now ? You won't forget them 
when you tell your grandmother ?" 

No, thank you. I hardly ever forget. Grandmother 
says I have a first-rate — remember," — after a pause. I 
guess I'll go now ; and I’ll tell her as soon as I get home. 
Good-by! But — that other girl. Is she a boy? You said 
Frank, you know." 

Oh, yes I Her name is really Frances, but when we 
were little girls we wanted a brother very much, and I 
called her Frank to make believe I had one." 

"‘It's a very pretty name, but it sounds queer for a 
girl. We don't ever call it that way down at Gray Beach. 
There’s only Frank Preston, and he's a man. He votes 
next election, grandfather says." 

Thus she departed, holding the pink sunbonnet very 
high in the air and giving an extra fiirt to the short skirts 
under the pink gingham apron. Helena escorted her to 
the door and watched her through the gate and to the next 
house, on the corner. 


48 


Milly's First Caller. 

They were all lying in wait for her, Milly,” she re- 
ported on her return. They came trooping out from 
among the bushes of Pine Grove and tumbling over the 
sliells in the borders of Holly Villa. I wish I could hear 
her report of us unseen ! Isn’t she a study ! ” 

She’s the prettiest of them, and there are several 
beauties,” said Frank. “I think the faces all have more 
individuality than those of city children. Here they are 
not all made on the same block and brought up on the 
same angles, the same light and shade, the same brick- 
and-mortar coloring. But the Netterleys ! Wait until 
they appear on the scene, Milly. I have heard of nothing 
to equal them since I came. ^ Them young uns,’ Albert 
calls them all, but he has a peculiar sniff of scorn for the 
six Netterleys.” 

The Netterleys are coming to see me,” said Milly ner- 
vously. I asked her to bring them all.” 

They are? Well!” 

To bring all the children, I mean, and she had spoken 
of them, and said they wanted to come too. I — I don’t 
think they can get into mischief here.” 

In her helpless condition she was getting into what 
Frank called ^^a state.” Her flushed face and wide-open 
eyes warned them that the subject must be changed and 
her thoughts diverted — that even an innocent pink sun- 
bonnet might cover vivacious gossip enough to exhaust 
the vitality of one whose hold on life was so frail. 

Mischief here ? ” said Frank coolly. I think I see 
them at it ! Besides, they may only be very bright, clever 
children. We don’t abide by Albert’s decisions in other 
things. But I tSS<\y Father Morgan while 1 was out. He 


Milly's First Caller, 49 

introduced himself and sent a message to mother. Where 
is she ? ’’ 

Gone to Miss Hilson’s with that box of candy before 
it gets stale. Miss Hilson sent her such a nice note, Milly. 
She has been kept in the house, for two or three days with 
a bad cold, or she would have called before. Mother 
thought she would answer it in person and take the 
candy.” 

‘^I thought no one took cold here,” remarked Milly, 
passing the Netterleys. 

They don’t,” promptly decided Frank. Miss Hil- 
son was not here when she caught it — she was several 
miles away. She was at Great Bay Head for a night and 
a day.” 

Why, Frank ! ” exclaimed Helena. 

“ She was. I heard it at the post-office, the store and 
the carpenter’s shop. She went over before you came, and 
in my loneliness, whatever I heard sank into my silent soul 
and remained there. Besides, I asked who Miss Hilson 
was, just to make talk — I was tired of silence — and that 
impressed it all on my mind. She went over to see them 
draw something or catch something in a not, and she 
was caught in the rain and then caught cold. She had 
to stay there until her clothes were dried to come home 
in.” 

You take easily to village gossip,” said Mrs. Marsden 
from the hall door, where she had paused behind the 
portidres while making sure that there was no stranger 
within. 

0 mother ! Have you had a dish yourself ? ” 

‘^Indeed, I have not. I have made a very pleasant ac- 
4 


50 


Milly^s First Caller. 

quail! tance. We know a great many of the same people, 
and Miss Hilson is very intelligent and has seen a great 
deal. I like what she says of Gray Beach. She has lived 
here all the year round for seven years, so she has given it 
a fair trial. And she told me all about the church. We 
can do something for it, and I have missed the Sanctuary 
Society even already.”’’ 

Then Frank gave Father Morgan’s message, and they 
talked and planned until Mr. Aveling came in from the 
train, tired, but satisfied with the day’s j^rogress. He was 
almost ready to sail, he said. Milly had too much to 
think of to regret the door she had opened to the active 
world in the persons of the Netterleys. 

Yet she did think of that world. When Helena was 
leaving her for that cozy chat she had each night with her 
father, the light clasp of Milly ’s feeble fingers detained 
her. 

‘^Helena,*’ she said, shyly, I wish I had something 
to do, — something real. Am I too sick to have the chil- 
dren with me often ? I might learn something, and so 
might they. I might do some good, you know.” 

Helena smiled down into the earnest face. 

‘‘The missionary spirit at work? Well, you might 
think it over until you are able for it. I don’t think it 
will be long and there are — the Netterleys. If any one 
can manage them you can, for you can always get on with 
boys.” 

“ Are they all boys ? ” 

“All six of them. Get Albert to tell you about them. 
With all due allowance, you will have something left to 
build your castles.” 


Milly^s First Caller, 


51 


Milly laughed. 

I was afraid even you might think I would never be 
good for anything again/’ she said with a long sigh, as her 
father came in and Helena passed out. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE STORMY PETREL^S KEST. 

That was the name Miss Hilson gave to her cottage. 
She had come to Gray Beach seven years before, for a 
quiet rest after a great sorrow and many sad changes in 
her life, and she had liked the place so much that she 
bought the cottage which suited her best of all and made 
a new home for herself far from all that had made home 
before. With her work and her books and her flowers, 
she was never idle, never complaining, never restless. The 
old servant she had brought with her attended to all the 
household affairs, and she wrote or studied or wandered 
abroad in pleasant weather, thinking and planning new 
stories — for she was a writer of stories. 

The cottage was not on the beach, and not very near 
the others. It stood rather on the outskirts of the pine 
woods, and its little garden ran down to the edge of the 
largest, clearest, and deepest of the fresh water ponds or 
small lakes. Originally, the plain and simple seaside 
house, rough and ugly, but a shelter from the midday sun 
and the chill of night, she had gradually altered its whole 
appearance to that of a half foreign, wholly tasteful, home. 
It was gray, of course, for any one who knew the beauty 
of the peculiar coloring of one of the gray days that gave 
the beach its name would not have thought of disturbing 
its charm with any clash of hue or tint. But it was a very 

52 


53 


The Stormy PetreVs Nest, 

delicate gray, and it was daintily touched and enlivened 
with soft blue in narrow lines and light touches. There 
was a veranda rail to the roof of the lower porch, and 
a blue and gray striped awning for the summer days, 
which gave a double space for use out of doors. The 
pines came out as sentinels on either side, and stood 
here and there along the garden fence, grave, beautiful, 
and stately, while the water of the little lake sparkled and 
rippled, summer and winter, for she had never seen a mask 
of ice upon its smiling face. 

Miss Hilson herself was not old — that is, she did not 
feel in the least old, and she had forgotten to repine at 
the change in her fortunes or to think longingly of her be- 
loved, who had gone from her as God willed. The years 
had used her kindly, and she was a very pleasant thing to 
look upon. She was what Albert had called her — the 
little lady.” She had soft brown hair and clear brown 
eyes, and a quiet, pleasant look that was as gladsome as a 
smile. 

The children of Gray Beach liked her and often wished 
they could be with her, but she was too busy, and it was 
work that required her to be much alone. But she knew 
more of them than they did of her, for she studied them, 
and carried the thought of them with her. 

To end all, she was the only Catholic living at Gray 
Beach for several years, except,” as she told Mrs. Mars- 
den, the scissors-grinder, and he won’t go to church.” At 
hrst she had gone across the meadows to the large city, 
which was alive, winter and summer, and had a church and 
a congregation quite like an inland city. But she had writ- 
ten and talked of the rest and beauty of Gray Beach not in 


54 


The Stormy PetreVs Nest. 

vaiu. From a summer chapel and a visiting priest, there 
had gradually grown St. Monica by the Sea, and a priest’s 
house that afforded needed rest to many. 

And now we have come to join you,” Mrs. Marsden 
said. ‘MVe shall be here for more than the summer and, 
perhaps, more than the winter.” 

You have brought an invalid, I know. I hoj)e and 
think it is to the right place, for here we are never ill as 
in other places. Can you note any improvement, or is it 
too soon ? ” 

“ Too soon to be very sure of lasting benefit, but she is 
very much better than when we came.” 

Then Mrs. Marsden told the story, and Miss Hilson lis- 
tened with tender interest and an understanding of the 
whole that prepared her to be Milly’s friend. She was 
running over the names of her favorite books, and catch- 
ing a glimpse of pleasant things in the future even while 
she listened. Miss Hilson knew books so well that she 
believed in their help and comfort more than most people. 

‘MVill you come and see Milly ? ” said Mrs. Marsden 
as she rose to leave. Your cousin told me of your busy 
hours, and of your inability to make time for all the things 
with which other people try to fill up the days, but I 
should be very glad if you could make an idle half-hour 
for her. If you Avill allow it my girls shall come to you 
now and then, so that they may not slip into altogether 
bad habits of selfishness and discourtesy, but Milly — she 
cannot come.” 

She is one of the royal family of sufferers,” said Miss 
Hilson. Shall I not gladly pay my court to her ? Tell 
her from me that I shall be only too happy to do the 


55 


The Stormy PetreVs Nest, 

honors of Gray Beach to her as soon as possible. She 
must get into the pine woods and out upon the sands. 
She has never known what sunrise and sunset mean yet. 
There are three liundred and sixty-five of each in each 
year — to say nothing of the odd ones — and there has never 
been one which repeats any (Tther one. Father Morgan will 
tell you that he has seen tlie sun set in every sea of every 
dime, but never saw it in its perfection until he watched 
it here. Oh ! there is more in this quiet corner of the 
globe than any one who does not know it could imagine.’’ 

All of this Mrs. Marsden repeated as she chatted with 
the three girls of their neighbor — their only neighbor, in 
truth, for all the other cottages were yet vacant, and the 
village was farther olf in spirit than it was in fact. They 
were prepared to welcome her warmly, therefore, when 
she came to them in a few days, quite recovered from her 
cold and blithe and active as a bird. ^GShe looks indeed 
like something out of a nest — a beautiful little something, 
but 1 don’t know what. She is not chipper enough for a 
wren, nor saucy enough for a robin, nor demure enough 
for a black-cap, nor artificial enough for a canary. Come 
here, Helena, and look at her while you have a chance.” 

' She is like a dove,” said Helena, Not a bit like a 
stormy petrel. Who could connect the bleakness of a 
stormy sea with a thought of her ! But she is coming 
here ! ” 

Good ! I hoped she was. Milly, you will see her, 
won’t you ? She can tell you all about the Netterleys.” 

For the idea of the Netterleys had taken possession of 
Milly’s mind as nothing had ever possessed it in her for- 
mer state of health. She had Albert in for a morning 


56 


Tice Stormy Petrel’s Nest. 

interview, and had indeed built castles of all kinds upon 
his ridiculously shrewd remarks and comically vivid de- 
scriptions. In the intervals of his household duties, Al- 
bert was making acquaintance with the sea and its inhab- 
itants ; the land and the dwellers therein. AVhat he saw 
and what he heard, as well as what de people down dar 
did not know/' he observed, would putty nigh on to fill 
the biggest kind of a book.” 

‘‘ But I hain’t a-puttin^ dem Netterleys into dat book. 
You min’ dat now. Dey don’t belong to the Don’ knows. 
Dem six boys dess naterally take to badness, and de way 
dey knows hit dess fills dem up to de brim. I ’clar’ to man, 
I wish my ole Mis’ had dem six — yes, suh ! de whole of 
dem six Netterleys. De way she would dress dem down, 
if dey is white ! ” 

Did she bring you up by dressing you down, Albert ? ” 

Albert sniggered. 

How you tink I larn anyting outen dat. Miss Frank ? 
De Ian’ knows, I hain’t good fer much, but if she do 
it dat a way I fin’ myself heap sight wuss. You min’ dat 
now ! ” 

“Well, it might do for tlie ISTetterleys, and it might 
not,” concluded Frank, as he withdrew. “Among other 
things I have heard on the wing, are terrific accounts of 
‘whalins’ they have had countless times. They do not 
appear to have taken effect as was expected.” 

Certainly, the Netterleys “lay heavy” on Milly’s mind 
after that talk with old Albert. She was eager to see Miss 
Hilson and to hear her account. So Miss Hilson was 
shown in, making Milly’s second caller, for the children 
had not as yet availed themselves of her invitation, 


57 


The Stonny PetreVs Nest. 

although the flowers increased in numbers as the spring 
widened and brightened the floral calendar with its increas- 
ing age. 

Her first look into Miss Hilson’s face inspired her with 
confidence and trust. And Miss Hilson’s account was 
most interesting. 

The Netterleys, she said, had a history. They were 
six boys ranging from sixteen to nine, motherless for years 
and now fatherless. They had come to Gray Beach — or 
rather, to a house some five miles from Gray Beach, on 
the Great Bay side — when the younger boys were mere 
babies ; indeed, she thought the youngest was born after 
they came. At any rate, the mother did not live very 
long. They had been very rich, and the house they came 
to had been one of two or three summer places, and one 
which tliey seldom saw — a sort of fishing and gunning place 
to which the father came with his friends. But they had 
suddenly lost everytliing else, and came to it for shelter. 
The country people said the mother was still very beau- 
tiful and very gentle and sweet-mannered, but her heart 
was broken, and she faded away like a snowdrift under the 
first hot sun. The houseful of children was left with no 
other care than the father^s, for it was really a loss of 
everything with tliem, and servants, horses, carriages, 
comfort of all kind was gone. The father was an odd crea- 
ture, too proud and too lazy (and too meanly proud, at that) 
to do anything he should have done. The little children 
— baby and all — were nursed and cared for by the older 
boys, as boys of six and seven can care for babies of five 
and four and three and two, for there was little more than 
a year between them in regular order as they came. At 


58 


The Stormy PetreVs Nest. 

first, they lived in a curious fashion at Bay Bluff,— so 
the place was called — but at last even that slipped away 
from them, and the father, sunk lower and lower in his 
meanness and dead now to all pride, had shuffled over 
to the pine woods near the Point, into a hut little better 
than a cattle-shed. The scissors-grindePs home was 
palace-like beside it. There they were now, as they had 
been ever since she came to Gray Beach. They are 
little better than outlaws,” concluded Miss Hilson, 
‘‘ and, yet, they interest me greatly. They are handsome 
fellows, and they are bright. And the other children like 
them, which is not a bad sign. But what will become 
of them ? Now and then they go to the village school — 
as they have a perfect right to do — but they always end 
their lessons with a quarrel of some kind, and when the 
teacher cannot bear it any longer, they are sent home in 
disgrace and with stern threats that act for a little time 
as a wholesome sedative. But they forget the past, think 
others have forgotten it, and break out anew. To tell 
the truth, the people about here are very patient with 
them — they are a good, kind people, on the whole — and 
when their father was drowned last year — for he was 
drowned, no one knows how, and his body never found — 
tliere was a great deal of right feeling shown, and helping 
hands extended from all sides. The eldest, Tom, I have 
quite a fancy for, although he has never allowed me to 
know him except in the most distant manner possible. 
Poor fellow ! He has had a terribly hard and hopeless 
life.” 

Milly had not spoken, but she had heard with glistening 
eyes. Albert’s story was confirmed, and yet excused. 


59 


The Stormy PetreVs Nest, 

What a story it was in reality ! She had read such things, 
but that they could be true now ! It had never seemed 
possible. 

Miss Hilson had been well pleased with the reception 
of her account. Milly’s face had spoken, though her 
lips were closed. Helena was thoughtful and Frank 
curious, yet subdued. She had read the three with the eyes 
of a student and a dreamer, with comparison and instinct 
both at work. 

The three are very unlike, yet with much in common. 
But the Marsdens will never wear out the sheath by the 
mere carrying of the blade through the struggle. Milly 
Aveling has already done that. Poor child ! She needs 
help in more ways than one.” 

And Miss Hilson turned back on her steps, and went 
through the woods to the church, as is the first impulse 
of the Catholic heart. Happy are they to whom the 
door is ever open and the lamp ever burning. There is 
no sorrow, no care, no perplexity that cannot be laid to 
rest before the Tabernacle where the lamp burns. 


CHAPTER VIL 


‘‘ALL OUT DOORS.” 

Miss Hilson' did not allow her feeling for Milly to lose 
zest. She went daily to the church for “ a quiet time,” 
and very often — almost daily, in fact — went home by 
Ocean Cottage “for a word or two.” She was a welcome 
presence, and the break in the day, always half expected, 
half a pleasant surprise, was a particularly good thing for 
the girl. She was gaining rapidly, and before June, could 
sit upright in her wheeled chair and use her hands slowly 
but quite skilfully. Each day developed some new energy 
and some phase of determined effort. But no life re- 
turned to her feet and ankles. She was chained to her 
chair, she said, like the king of the Black Isles, who was 
marble from his waist down. 

She had grown years older mentally even in the two 
months that had passed so quickly, yet seemed to hold 
more than all the years of her life that went before them. 
The first of June her father sailed from New York, very 
hopeful, but sadly grieved to part from her. His health, 
however, far more than his business, demanded the change 
which seemed to await him in the mountain country of 
Brazil beyond Rio Janeiro, and which Mr. Marsden wrote 
of as the Paradise of invalids. Milly said nothing, but 
she missed in a double sense the one wlio had been father 
and mother, and, indeed, of late a child of her care and 

60 


All Out DoorsJ^ 


61 


thoughts. But everything helped with her in some way, 
although she did not know it at the time. Her loneliness 
and craving made it easier for her to brave the outside 
world. The cottagers had taken possession of their sum- 
mer homes, and the beach and board-walk were no longer 
an undisturbed waste for hours at a time when she could 
have been as much at her ease on them as in her own 
room, but she was now often seen upon the sands, Albert 
rolling her chair and Helena or Frank walking beside 
her. Sometimes Mrs. Marsden joined them in a shady 
corner near the rustic pavilion, and they had a generally 
jolly time,’" reading, talking, and watching the newcomers. 
There was a particularly stout and hospitable-looking 
basket known in the house as the beach basket,” which 
appeared upon such occasions, and seemed to hold any- 
thing that was asked for in the way of news, luncheon, 
knitting, embroideries, pencil and paper, novels and 
poetry. 

‘‘We keep it always packed,” explained Frank to Miss 
Hilson, “and one packing will do for three years or so. 
Xobody ever wants to read, or knit, or sew, or do her 
duty by tlie poets on the sands, but it looks well to be 
provided.” 

“ And what do you find in the luncheon line that will 
furnish forth the refreshments for three years or so ? ” 

“ Albert sees to that. He spends an hour of vocal 
misery over that basket whenever mother orders its ap- 
pearance. He grumbles if we do eat and he grumbles if 
we don’t. All the time, however, he is preparing and 
tucking away in odd corners, where we can get them with- 
out absolutely unpacking, all sorts of ^ mouthfuls,’ as he 


62 


All Out Doors” 


says. By the way, let me get you some of them. Albert’s 
‘ ole Mis ’ prepared him for a Pullman car porter, among 
her other good works.” 

There is Tom Netterley,” said Miss Hilson in a low 
voice to Milly, as Frank was setting out a very pretty lunch 
on a worn and sun-dried timber of the old wreck, ‘^and I 
should not wonder if this is the first sight he has had 
of a ^mouthful’ to-day. I heard yesterday that they 
were in one of their periodical cramps as to means and 
morsels.” 

He was looking down upon the party from the board- 
walk which edged the bluff. A handsome, picturesque 
fellow, looking far more than his sixteen years, tall, slight, 
dark, and not at all evil-looking, in spite of liis record. 

‘‘ Do you think he is really hungry ? ” questioned 
Milly. 

My dear, he has been hungry nine-tenths of his days, 
for when they have food, they do not know how to make 
the best of it, or to save the waste for less plenteous 
seasons. I have heard that their kitchen furniture and 
utensils are all combined in one immense black pot, into 
which they toss anything they consider eatable as they get 
it, slowly stewing the contents whenever one or the other 
chooses to build the fire beneath it and watch it simmer. 
It is never empty unless they fail to find forage. And 
they do fail.” 

The dark eyes of the boy were fixed upon her with a 
piercing intensity as she spoke, as though he heard even 
at that distance, and with an expression of protest or en- 
treaty or — it might be — hungry longing that appealed to 
Milly. 


All Out Doors:^ 


63 


Oh ! do you think he can want it ? I never, never 
came so near to any one I knew had not enough to eat/^ 

Fortunate girl ! But city poverty is lost in the crowd, 
I remember. Out here, the brotherhood of man, like 
everything else in nature, comes out clearly under the 
light of such a heaven of unsullied purity, and one half 
the world knows how the other half suffers, at least. I 
have learned many things since I drifted into this haven. 
So will you.” 

I’m sure I hope so. Indeed, I have already learned 
some things. But that boy’s face. It is so sad and so 
old for sixteen — isn’t that what they say he is ?” 

About that. Have you seen the others — the little ones 
who run and play with Leila and Em’ly and Annie, your 
three friends ? ” 

Not yet. Leila says they are coming the next time 
she comes, if ^ the new girl from the Point ’ don’t come. 
They seem to have a code of manners of their own, and 
count off so many for each visit.” 

I imagine Leila’s wise grandmother sees to that, that 
you may not be overwhelmed. But it is the first time I 
have heard of ‘ the new girl from the Point.’ ” 

She is colored.” 

‘‘Oh ! I have seen her, then. I understand the Net- 
terleys hold themselves very much aloof from the colored 
population. What a comment on distinction of race ! 
There is not a father in the pine woods settlement who 
is not a better father than Mr. Netterley has been, not a 
mother who has not been kind and generous out of her 
home stores to his neglected boys. There are good and 
brave and unselfish souls over at the Point, where there 


64 


All Out Doors.’^ 


are many of the f reeclmen^s descendants. Their parents and 
grandparents came here after the Civil War, and found the 
genial climate better suited to their southern constitu- 
tions.” 

“ This little girl comes over to school, I think, and 
she must be a very nice child. But the Netterleys gave 
her the choice of coming. Leila said they told her she 
might come first if she wanted to, only they wouldn’t 
come when she did. I didn’t know the reason for the 
arrangement nor the objection.” 

Well, it is Netterley-like to show some curious and 
distorted feature of courtesy in their rudest dealings with 
their fellows. It is as if they were haunted and driven 
by the ghosts of their ancestors’ culture and breeding.” 

Miss Hilson,” said Frank, who had sent Albert for 
ginger ale from the ice-box of the cottage, and waited 
his return, ‘‘Albert says that is young Netterley. 
If this was a Roseburn picnic long ago, I should send to 
ask him to have lunch. Would it do down here ? ” 

“ If you will go yourself and ask him. Your mother 
may not be willing.” 

“ Would do it yourself ?” 

“ Yes — as an experiment.” 

Without another word, Frank walked lightly to the 
place on the sands under the figure on the board walk, and 
invited him to have some luncheon with them. And, to 
the surprise of all, without a moment’s hesitancy, he ac- 
cepted, vaulted over the rail and came with her to Milly’s 
side. 

He was too quietly natural to be awkward. He spoke 
to Miss Hilson with reserve, and to the others as to those 


All Out DoorsJ^ 


65 


more of his own age, and with less formality. But he 
said very little. A few remarks on the old wreck they 
were using as table and chairs in one, showed that he 
knew a great deal of the sea and the shore as he had ac- 
tually seen and tested them, and called attention to matters 
the girls had not noticed. 

This was a very old ship,’"’ he said. You can tell 
that from the way it is put together with wooden pegs. 
These little round things all over it are the smooth ends of 
the pegs. They used to build ships that way in Sweden 
and Norway, a sailor told me.’’ 

Wooden pegs ! ” exclaimed Frank. Why, there 
are thousands of them in this one piece of the wreck. 
How long has it been here ? But, of course, it was long 
before you can remember.” 

It hasn’t been here so very long. It moves up and 
down the coast. When you have been here a little 
while — like next winter — you’ll see it go away and come 
back, maybe two or three times. It’s been down at the 
lower pavilion twice.” 

Why don’t they use it for firewood ? ” asked Mrs. 
Marsden, who had joined them. There must be several 
cords in this piece.” 

He looked at her earnestly, as if puzzled. 

This piece is pretty near the whole of a good big ship. 
It’s down deep in the sand now. The sand soon blows 
over anything and buries it. Look at her dress,” point- 
ing to Milly’s motionless skirt, on which the sand already 
lay in smooth, even films, following each curve and fold. 

That’s the way it’ll do with anything that don’t 
move.” 

5 


G6 


All Out Doors.” 


A sudden flush sprang to his very eyes over the bronzed 
cheeks, and he rose instantly. 

“ I must be going over to town he said, hurriedly. 

I’m much obliged to you for this.” Then, with a hesi- 
tancy almost shy, You’re the folks from Ocean Cottage, 
ain’t you ? I’ve heard of — her.” 

Miss iVveling, you mean ? ” 

He looked directly at her, and addressed her. 

I’m glad to see you down here. It’s the best place in 
the world for anybody who ain’t strong. You must keep 
in the open air, and there’s plenty of it. Your man can 
push you up to the lake and through the woods, and round 
our way. There’s a lot of pretty places round here. We 
used to live at a pretty place over yonder,” — with a back- 
ward jerk of his head — "^biit you’d have to get a wagon 
and drive over. And it’s nice enough here. Good- 
by!” 

He was off up the beach without a look behind him. 
They watched him in silence until he was surely out of 
hearing. 

‘^Milly, he made you an apology in that last speech 
which was all your own. Did you see him color the in- 
stant he referred to the sand covering things where there 
is no motion ? ” 

‘^Was that it? Why, I never noticed it. I was too 
much interested in what he was saying. This bit of old 
wreck is deceiving.” 

It is indeed,” said Miss Hilson. I presume Tom 
Netterley knows from experience all there is to know about 
cutting it up for firewood. It is hard as iron. All these 
wooden pegs driven through and through it have toughened 


All Out Doors.” 


67 


ill it, and make cross obstructions no steel can sever. It 
has been beating to and fro here for a quarter of a century 
at least, when, they^Zo say, a Norwegian bark was wrecked 
in a great storm. But this may not be that. It may be a 
century older, and come in from the Sargasso Sea.’^ 

So even Tom Netterley could teach us something,’^ 
commented Helena. Do you know, these children and 
young people down here seem to me to know a great deal 
that is worth knowing ? Koseburn is called country, but it 
is too near the city to be real country. It is spoiled for 
use or beauty either, according to nature. But here — 
there is a dignity in living, and the children arrive early 
at its honors. 

Dat dar Netterley — hum ! He mighty fine gen’leman 
alongside our folks. But deydon’ see t’other side of him — 
not dess yit. You min’ dat now ! ” 

‘‘ Now, listen to Albert ! He’s talking to himself. 
Miss Hilson, and he has no idea we can hear it. You 
should be with us sometimes, and get an unvarnished 
opinion of us as he views us. I tell you, we ^ see ourselves 
as others see us,’ then.” 

Milly lay looking out to sea. A dignity in living.” 
Yes, there was. She felt it with every breath she drew, 
with every look she sent heavenward across that wide ex- 
panse. East, west, north, south, and straight upward — it 
was heaven everywhere, and a thought of God borne in- 
ward on every ray of light. Yet here were the Netter- 
leys, as there were so many in the narrow city streets. As 
she turned restlessly towards the others to lose herself in 
their talk, she saw the cross upon the spire. Something 
without herself flashed homelike the spoken word : And 


68 


All Out Door 8.^^ 


that is here, too ! All it stood for rushed upon her. 
Self-denial, patience, love, hope, courageous uplifting of 
the cross against all evil everywhere — the confusion and 
emotion of her thoughts at the time only deepened the 
impression. Afterwards, she thought it all out and 
studied over it with diligence and in humility. 

And here,’’ said Helena to Miss Hilson, lovingly laying 
her hand on Milly’s soft curls, all unconscious of the mean- 
ing in her words, ^^she has all out doors to grow in, hasn’t 
■she ? ” 

All out doors ! ” said Miss Hilson, with her bright 
smile. And some thought of what was in Milly’s mind 
passed like a prayer through hers. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE LODGE IH THE WILDERNESS. 

The Slimmer guests and cottagers soon became ac- 
customed to the wheeled chair and its retinue. Milly 
lived in the open air and the children gathered in her 
wake as naturally as birds follow a vessel. Guides, phi- 
losophers and friends they certainly were, for the various 
expeditions within reach of Albert’s powers and the limits 
of the wheeled chair were undertaken by their advice and 
carried through with their encouragement and sagacious 
counsel. 

Farther and farther each day the rambles extended, and 
the color bloomed in Milly’s face, the light beamed in her 
eyes as never before, while the use she was compelled to 
make of her hands and arms so strengthened both as to 
give her wonderful command of her helpless body, after 
all. She grew quite plump, too, and acquired all sorts 
of accomplishments under the children’s tuition, for they 
were all expert in country sports and home manufactures 
that forwarded the pursuit of these. She could tell a 
good kite from a bad one, and help to make one ; she was 
authority on bows and arrows, and, above all, on fishing 
tackle, and was looked upon as a perfect mine of wealth 
by the happy, little care-free souls who had no money, and 

indeed seldom saw any in the hands of the home people. 

69 


70 The Lodge in the Wilderness. 

Provided with poles and sticks of all sorts and sizes the 
party would gather at the lake, and tlie most satisfactory 
shoppers, Leila Herbert and Annie Merton, be despatched 
to Mr. Folsom’s to buy hooks and lines. The Hetterleys 
would appear with the bait, and there would be anxious, 
eager waiting until a shout announced the return of the 
shoppers. Then such crowding and pushing and pro- 
testing and entreating ! — all with perfect good nature, 
however, for it was understood that cross people ” worried 

poor sick Miss Milly ” and could not be tolerated where 
she was, particularly if Albert was on guard. Miss Milly ” 
portioned out the hooks and lines, and Albert patiently 
poled them according to the somewhat eccentric directions 
of some of the members. In the end, every one had a line, 
including Milly herself, and the fishing began. It Avas 
wonderful how many small creatures they landed, not- 
withstanding a continual chorus of merry nonsense and 
endless hushings and Keep quiet, will you ? ” from 
every fisher in turn. Corks bobbed frantically, poles 
waved triumphantly, lines described all sorts of curves in 
the air and sank in maddening tangles on the grass. Oc- 
casionally, hooks caught in the garments of little fishers 
as well as in the gills of little fishes, and even Albert had 
to go home Avith a hook in his ‘^yaller brown trousers,” 
Avhile the youngest Donny — aged four — roared in anguish 
over his severed line, noAV dangling harmlessly from his 
foot or two of switch. But no real harm ever came to 
them. They were full of expedients, and met any acci- 
dent with good nature and kindly patience and assistance. 
So far as Milly could discover, the four Netterleys — and 
they Avere now constant in their attendance on her — Avere 


The Lodge in the Wilderness, 71 

not better nor worse than the others, and two of them were 
uniisnally bright. The little colored girl was not often 
with them in their outings. Before school closed, she 
used to trudge away from them with backward turning 
head and longing eyes, going home faithfully and punc- 
tually to ‘Mielp Mommy take keer of the childrens.” 
Afterwards, she came two or three times, to look on, shy 
and smiling, from the bushes, until she was hailed with 
joyous shouts and dragged into the circle for full partici- 
pation in all the fun. The Netterleys were only tolerant, 
but they ivere tolerant. 

Why don’t you like Alissa ? ’’ asked Milly one day 
when she had Louis Netterley alone beside her chair for 
a brief interval. Didn’t I hear you say just now you 
wouldn’t fish on the same side of the lake with her ? ” 

Dassent like her,” was the prompt answer. Got 
nothin’ agin her, though.” 

You dare not like her ? AVhy, that is odd ! I think 
she is a very good and pleasant little girl, and she is always 
ready to give up to you.” 

^^Has ter. She knows she’d better when our Dan’s 
round.” 

^•Now, Louis, I won’t have you say such a mean, 
cowardly thing as that to me. Of course, I can only feel 
sorry for you if you think it, for I cannot change your 
thoughts, but I can put a stop to your saying it where I 
can hear it. If Dan is rude or cruel to a good little girl— 
to any little girl or boy — he is a very mean fellow, and if 
you stand by and look on without taking that one’s part, 
you are both mean and a coward. But I don’t think you 
are either.” 


72 


The Lodge hi the Wilderness, 

He liung his head. 

‘‘Our Tom says we ain’t that kind of folks. He won’t 
let ns go with them P’inters.” 

“ Does he let you frighten their little girls, though ? I 
don’t believe it of him. One thing is certain. All you 
children are my guests on these out-of-doors parties as 
much as if you came to see me inside the walls of Ocean Cot- 
tage. I am polite and attentive to you, and I try to make 
each one have a real good time ” 

“ Youhetyer do ! ” he interrupted her to applaud. 

“ Well, then, I expect you all to be polite and attentive 
to me and to every one who is my guest. I expect it 
particularly of you boys, for men are always on their good 
behavior when they are guests and well entertained, I 
am always glad to see you and Dan and August and Car- 
roll — you know that — but you must not be rude to any 
one you find here. If you are you cannot come.” 

Nothing more was ever said. But it was a seed well 
sown, and the four boys were all as pleasant as possible to 
Alissa when she joined them. To Albert, they never dared 
“show demselbs off,” as he said. Albert was a privileged 
person in many ways. 

So they went round the lake and through the woods and 
down the road to Great Bay and up the road to the salt 
marshes, gathering lovely and curious things, blossoms 
and weeds and leaves and mosses and knowledge. Never 
were brighter little eyes, quicker little fingers, more reten- 
tive little rnemorie!.-. Local names and local peculiarities 
were all at their tongues’ ends, and when Milly supple- 
mented what they told her with home readings, which she 
rehearsed to them, they listened, commented, and packed it 


73 


The Lodge in the Wilderness. 

away to bring it forth at unexpected times and, very often, 
in unexpected forms. 

Of course they met with various adventures. Once they 
found a snake from which they all fled in fear as pisen,^’ 
leaving Milly and Albert to face it and howling in distress 
at her danger. It was Dan Netterley who turned back, 
and with set teeth and face absolutely blanched with deter- 
mination, marched up to the bush under which it had 
glided to shake it and punch her out.” And punched 
out she certainly was and killed — a spotted, speckled, 
brilliant-hued reptile really poisonous and seldom found 
in tliat vicinity. Many tales were told of its venom and 
malignity that justified the children’s fright, their instant 
recognition and their prompt fiight, calling, too, for 
due appreciation of Dan’s courage on reflection. 

Another time they encountered the only flock of sheep 
in the county, which sought pasture where they could 
and fed here and there on the banks of the lake or the 
edge of the wood. This time it was Milly who was afraid, 
to the endless merry scorn of the children. They went 
home with her in radiant glee. 

“ 0, Mis’ Marsden ! don’t you think she was afraid of the 
sheep, and with us all there, too, and Albert besides ! ” 

This was Leila, who, as the nearest neighbor, was more 
often at the cottage and more familiar with Mrs. Marsden. 

And what you think she asked ns?” piped up an- 
other little voice. She said, did we think the Billy 
sheep was there,” — with a giggle that started a chorus of 
smothered shrieks of laughter, and brought Frank out to 
join in the merriment. 

Well, I have told you ever so often that I never lived 


74 


The Lodge in the Wilderness. 

in the country. You ought not to expect me to know as 
much as you do.’^ 

‘‘But we’re a-teachin’ you. And you’ve learned a lot 
a’ready,” came in soothingly from a not very bright little 
chap with a fat, comfortable, rosy face. 

“ Indeed I have ! I shall never call another sheep Billy. 
But you do call a goat Billy, don’t you ? We have goats 
in the city, and I have heard that.” 

“ All the goats with horns is Billies.” 

“ No, they ain’t, neither ! Louis Netterley had a goat 
with ears as long as his arm, and it wasn’t Billy. It was 
Rocky, ’cause it come from the Rocky Mountains.” 

“ Oh, you go home, Donriy ! You never saw that goat. 
You only heard Louis Netterley tell about ‘them golden 
days.’” 

With that, a dark countenance, silent and fierce, came to 
the fore. The speaker was off like a flash and the dark 
boy followed like another. The others scattered in con- 
sternation. 

“ Dat dar young un bettah kep’ his mouf shot,” pro- 
nounced Albert. “ Dat Dan Netterley gwine gib him mos’ 
powerful good dressin’ down arter dat sass.” 

“ I am not sure he doesn’t deserve all he will get,” 
said Mrs. Marsden. “ The children were all happy to- 
gether, and it was ill-natured mischief to stir up anger by 
derision of a companion. Even if it was nothing worse 
than mischief, it was ugly mischief.” 

“ It wasn’t ‘ smart,’ either,” said Frank, and ended it. 

Not many days after that, the party plunged deeper 
than ever before into the woods, to visit a green bower of 
which the little girls told marvelous stories, and which 


75 


The Lodge in the Wilderness, 

they called the ‘‘ Fairies’ Palace.” They had trained the 
vines — or, rather, the older ones among them had assisted 
their elder sisters in training them— several years before, 
and they had fallen heirs in due succession to all the mys- 
terious delights of such a woodland retreat. They had 
been urgent with Milly to visit it, and had at last ap- 
pointed a day, and made an occasion of the visit. 

The path was rough and intricate, but they pushed 
ahead with an advance guard, and marched Indian 
fashion ” in single file on each side the chair, holding 
down and forcing back the undergrowth so that Albert 
could get the stout cliair near enough for him to carry 
Milly the remainder of the way. It was a delightful green 
nest. The children had prepared it in anticipation, and 
had decked it with mosses and shells, favorite bits of mica 
and treasures of china and pebbles until it was a veritable 
grotto, gleaming and sparkling in the dark verdure of 
vines and shrubs. The floor had been scraped and beaten 
down and covered to the depth of several inches with 
fine white sand, so that Milly’s rug might be spread for 
her to rest in comfort and safety. Even Albert resigned 
himgelf to admiration with a bland smile of content'. 

‘‘ Bery putty — bery fine — ’deed hit tiz ! But dem young 
uns mus’ ’a’ wanted a heap of holp, dough. Dey got hit, 
too. Dey neber brung dat white san’ all dis yer way dem 
lonesome selbs. You min’ dat now !” 

Gay was the laughter and merry the chatter for the 
next half-hour. Then Annie Merton grew restless, 
whispered to Leila Herbert, and with an important air 
they withdrew from the double circle around Milly’s 
rug. 


76 


The Lodge in the Wilderness. 

But the others understood, and meaning looks, mys- 
terious smiles and whispers and nudgings went round. 
Milly’s attention was discreetly fixed upon the revelations 
of some of the smallest of the party, who seized the op- 
portunity to have their ''say,’’ while their elders were 
otherwise engaged. 

Gradually, she became conscious of a certain uneasiness 
creeping over them. One by one they left, until she re- 
mained alone in the grotto, even Albert having vanished. 
She was just about to call him, for her helplessness, some- 
times almost forgotten in her brave efforts to be as others 
were when with them, always rushed upon her conscious- 
ness with an overmastering fear if she found herself alone 
unexpectedly. 

A wild shriek not far off, the rush and trample of feet, 
the breaking of twigs and branches all around her, as it 
seemed to lier excited nerves, might have caused serious 
results to her if Albert had not stepped suddenly before 
her, calling to those without : 

" Hesh, you chil’ens ! Hesh, I say ! Yon boun’ ter 
scare Miss Milly outen her seben senses, wid yellin’ an’ 
screechin’ an’ sech foolishness. Hit hain’t nothin’. Miss 
Milly — deed hit hain’t ! Not a blessed ting ! ” 

‘'Well, I guess it is then!” indignantly exclaimed 
Annie Merton, but instantly changing her tone at sight 
of Milly’s white face impressed with an undefinable fear. 
" Oh, it’s not a snake. Miss Milly I It’s nothin’ to hurt. 
It’s only a man, and he ain’t here, either.” 

" An’ wot yer makin’ all dis fuss ’bout a man fer ? Bress 
goodness ! Bar’s mens nuff roun’ dis yer place frum 
mornin’ til night fer you to know dey’s not wurf frightin’ 


77 


The Lodge in the Wilderness. 

my Miss Milly outen her senses dat away. Git along wif 
yer ! You little black P’int gal, come roun’ yer wif dat 
bottle. You is got gumption, min’ dat now !” 

It was not long before Milly could laugh at her coward- 
ice, by way of soothing her contrite little friends. In their 
anxiety at her condition, they quite forgot their first ex- 
citement until she led back to it by her questions. 

^‘Oh, we did mean to have everything real nice for you. 
Miss Milly ! ” 

Yes, we did have such a good treat ! ” 

And don’t you think he’s gone and eat every bit of 
it !” 

And all the peanuts. There ain’t even one ! ” 

A howl from the assembly greeted this item. Then 
followed an enumeration of the viands intended for the 
feast, with a running commentary of costs and contribu- 
tors, through which babel Milly probed to the heart of the 
affair. 

When the girls of the village fitted up their bower sev- 
eral years before, a spirit of emulation had induced the 
boys to fashion quite another style of retreat which they 
called a Hunting Lodge in the Wilderness.” It was 
not far from the Fairies’ Palace,” but they managed 
cleverly to disguise it and all approach to it, and to keep 
their secret. Wonderful reports had gone forth about it, 
and all sorts of daring deeds were said to have been planned 
within it. Boys who absented themselves now and then 
without leave were supposed to find refuge in the Lodge, 
and to cook, eat, and sleep while there at their own sweet 
will. Stories of its comforts and furnishings were in the 
air. A stove, dishes, a bed, a pan in which '^Miss 


78 


The Lodge in the Wilderness. 

Thompson’s best turkey ” was roasted, and all, from stove 
to turkey, stolen. At least, these things had disappeared 
from their rightful owners, and been immediately charged 
to the long account of the Netterleys (as their contribution 
to the Lodge) by all their neighbors. 

Neither Tom nor Fred had uttered one word when ac- 
cused of the theft or the motive for it, and thus the vil- 
lage belief had been strengthened. 

Early that spring, Annie Merton and a visitor had 
struck the trail in some of their wanderings and had fol- 
lowed it to the Lodge. With the shrewd daring which 
w^as Annie’s characteristic, she had studied the situation 
and made the most of her opportunities. She went 
round the house and round the house” and, at last, 
‘^peeped in at the window.” There was the stove, and 
the bed, and the pan — no doubt of that ! But the door 
was securely fastened with a lock so rusty that it was evi- 
dent no one had been there for a long time, and there was 
a general disorder and dustiness that marked approach- 
ing decay. The boys had grown tired of their plaything. 

Of course, Annie shared her discovery, but judiciously, 
and with one at a time. She told her cronies under solemn 
promise of secrecy, and led them at intervals to gaze from 
afar, thus proving her truthfulness. It was these visits to 
the Lodge which revived an interest in the Fairies’ Palace 
and brought up the plan of a treat ” for Milly. It had 
been a most successful idea, and a great basket of good 
things ” made up for the treat. After consultation, Annie 
and Leila, always the leaders, had hidden it down by the 
spring, out of sight but safe. But — when they went for 
it at the appointed time, the basket had vanished. Foot- 


The Lodge in the Wilderness. 79 

steps not their own had left their impress on the mossy 
edge, and these footprints led np the trail to the Lodge. 
Fired with indignation, and breathing out vengeance on 
the poor Netterleys — at once suspected — the two little 
girls stormed and raged np to the very door of the Lodge. 
It was open. They paused on its threshold. There was 
the basket, there were the shells of the peanuts, the 
crumbs of the cake, and there on the rickety bed was a 
dirty, ragged, sleeping man, with a grizzled head and a 
great, dirty, tangled beard. 

Then it was not the Netterleys, after all,” said Milly. 

No, it was an old man, a dirty old man, that abomina- 
tion of the children — a tramp. 

Grandmother wonT ever touch that basket again,” 
solemnly decided Leila, ^‘for she just can’t bear a tramp. 
She fairly ’spises them.” 

‘'And we haven’t a bite to eat,” concluded Annie. 
" Let’s go home ! ” 

" Dat’s so ! Tiuo of you young uns is got some sense, 
an’ one of dends cullud. Dat’s a putty fa’r averaige. 
Come, Miss Milly, haiu’tyou nigh ’bout ready to go ?” 

That ended the treat at the Fairies’ Palace, but it was 
long before Milly ceased to hear of it, to laugh at it, and 
to wonder at the number and the volume of the contents 
of that basket. In time, it might have seemed a mythi- 
cal outgrowth of the widow’s cruse and the jar of meal, 
for it certainly could not have given out. And the chil- 
dren could not have enjoyed its contents once in reality 
as they did fifty times in retrospect, while they abused, in 
fear and trembling, the "nasty, dirty, old tramp” who 
robbed them. 


CHAPTER IX. 


BUTTERFLIES. 

The little fright and the rough scramble through the 
woods, together with a little doubt in Mrs. Marsden’s mind 
as to the safety of such expeditions where there was a prob- 
ability of encountering a tramp, put a stop to Milly’s out- 
ings for the time being. She was rather more helpless 
than she had been for some time during the week imme- 
diately following their adventure, and, besides, it was near- 
ing the end of August and the weather at its greatest heat. 
Her chair and hammock were on the porch all day, mov- 
ing with the sun, and keeping in the shade. From either 
she could watch the beach and the bathers, the open green 
and the tennis-players, the arriving and departing trolley 
cars with their changing and never-ending live freight. 
The children came decorously to call on her, singly, in 
pairs, or in demure little parties of three or four, dressed 
in their best, and with ribbons as long and as wide and 
as fresh as mother-pride and father-purse could provide. 
They were certainly quaint little subjects, amusing, in- 
structive, and lovable. Their worldly-minded ness regard- 
ing the summer guests was remarkable, and their re- 
serve, upon all subjects lying near their hearts when 
one of these intruded, was no less to be observed. Milly 
they looked upon as one of themselves, for she had 

80 


Butterflies. 81 

come to stay.” To her they expatiated eloquently on 
the delights of the beach, marking otf each month with 
some new charm it woyld present, and developing such 
funds of information and such wealth of observation 
as amazed her. All that nature owned around them 
they loved and dwelt with. But, daily and hourly, the 
growing thoughtfulness of Milly recognized that their 
love and knowledge went no farther— they were never led 
in any way to look through nature up to nature’s God.” 
They were left as to religious training to the freedom of 
the winds and the waves, the birds and tlie flowers. Yet 
the spire rose in their sight and the cross cast its shadow. 

Milly was thinking a great deal, for, after all, there were 
many quiet hours. Her life was new to her in every way. 
She was for the first time one of a home household — its 
heart, in fact. The convent had been peace and order and 
holiness, an ideal existence,” as Frank had spoken of it. 
But it lacked the elements of that daily life that must ever 
be .the lot of the majority. The little jars and frets, the 
clogging of the wheels of routine, and the nerve-taxing 
speed which at times must drive them, those she had never 
known. It was her happy lot to meet them first in a Cath- 
olic home, where intellect, culture, ambition, training, were 
all deep dyed with that reverence for the teaching of the 
Church which hallows the least thing and makes thought, 
word, and deed a link between the Creator and His crea- 
ture. There was no religion ” talked, there was no effort 
made to edify, to reform, to show disapproval of the course 
of others — there was simply an earnest and humble desire 
to avoid sin and glorify God as He would have it. What 
the Church pronounced evil was avoided as evil, what the 
6 


82 Butterflies. 

Church ordered was done, for such must be as He willed 
it. And to one looking on, a loved and cherished one, 
there are a thousand and one small things that test and 
try the practise of the profession made by those amid whom 
she dwells. 

Mrs. Marsden and the girls were all familiar with the 
needs of the little church by this time, and they and Miss 
Hilson hoped to do something to aid it materially during the 
coming year. There were more Catholics than ever before 
among the summer guests, and the 23riests in charge — for 
in summer the assistance of one or more was granted 
Father Morgan — found their rest need cause them no 
qualms as inglorious because inactive ease. Frank had 
long since come into a full understanding of the different ac- 
counts of the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker,” 
who in the timorous ignorance of the average non-Catholic 
had not dreamed of more than one j)riest to a little bit of a 
church like that.” One minister” was enough for their 
own one sermon on Sunday and one ‘Sprayer-meeting” 
each week, and they had no conception of any other need 
of the soul to which a priest could minister. Each good 
man had seen a different man named to him as “ the Cath- 
olic ^Driest” by some previously enlightened neighbor, 
and had looked for no other. The priest, who was the 
parish priest of St. Monica by the Sea, was really the butch- 
er's — that is, the postmaster's — priest, “an old gentle- 
man, very quiet and religious.” The others were new and 
strange as it suited. Delicate priests came for the air, 
overworked priests came for the quiet, anxious priests came 
to reflect and decide, far from interruptions, and between 
them, the little church sometimes fared wonderfully well 


Butterflies. 83 

and always was blessed with enough wisdom to rely 
upon. 

Besides the churcli, Helena and Frank had other inter- 
ests more widespread. Friends and relatives came to 
Gray Beach because they were to be found there, and more 
of both were over at Brighton -on- the-Sea, where they 
could be reached by trolley several times in the day. 
Tlierewas bathing and tennis and moonlight on the beach 
and the porch as at all seaside resorts. There were clam- 
bakes, too, of an impromptu nature, whei'e the Ocean Cot- 
tage party came out strong, providing clams, firewood, and 
beach at will. But Milly, in her deprivation, really lived 
the widest life, for she touched the original and utterly 
new life to her of the Gray Beach people in their lifelong 
homes. 

In September, the summer guests began their fiittings, 
Day by day their numbers dwindled. The hotel closed 
its doors, shut in its blinds, and slumbered like a dor- 
mouse. The cottages took down their awnings, put up 
their shutters, turned their keys, and smiled dreamily in 
their peaceful loneliness. Only here and there the board- 
ing houses — there were as many of them nearly as there 
were houses in the village — struggled through the prep- 
arations for winter quarters with the incubus of a late 
guest, too sensible to leave the shore at its loveliest. 

^^The butterflies are nearly all gone,” remarked Mrs. 
Marsden, as they sat on the porch one perfect after- 
noon in late September. How glad I am that we may 
enjoy it in peace ! I never saw the shore at perfection 
before.” 

Hor I,” said Milly. But I never dreamed of per- 


84 Butterflies, 

fectioii before this summer. I never had time, and I never 
knew how.” 

Milly, you’re not a bit of a butterfly,” came from the 
hammock, where Frank had been sus23icious]y quiet for 
some time, after a parting at the trolley with the last of 
the cottage friends. I believe I am, though. I begin 
to think longingly of Eoseburn and city streets.” 

With the Manning girls and the Trexall boys coming 
into view along our lane or on Chestnut street above 
Ninth.” 

There was a note of plaintive regret in Helena’s voice. 

^^Too late now by several months,” said Mrs. Marsden, 
calmly. ^^You were at Eoseburn within reach of Chest- 
nut street and the Mannings and the Trexalls and you 
elected to come to Cray Beach. You must abide by your 
election.” 

And Milly is so much better, too. I think it is curing 
her, and that is something better than all the Mannings 
and Trexalls, after all. Yes, it is, Milly ! You needn’t 
shake your head and look wise. You take Helena’s de- 
votion for granted, but mine is worth just as much, if it 
is the silent kind.” 

Oh, silent!” laughed their mother, but there’s a 
butterfly, and a magniflcent one. Did you ever see such 
wings and such a perfect blue as they are ? ” 

The butterflies are going, then I ” exclaimed Miss Hil- 
son, who had been looking over some new books sent down 
to Milly. It is nearly time for their flight. Have you 
ever seen one ? ” 

‘CNever, unless you mean the one mother just referred 
to — the flight of the summer guests,” 


Butterflies. 85 

I mean the real thing. It occurs here every year some 
time in September, and it is the most beautiful and won- 
derful of all the flights. I wonder yearly that no one has 
ever made it known.’’ 

Oh, Miss Hilson, tell us about it ! No one has ever men- 
tioned it to us — and you wouldn’t either if you were a real 
native. Not one of them would tell a summer guest of a 
good thing they could keep to themselves — I wouldn’t miss 
it for the world.” 

There is nothing to tell you, Frank, except to watch 
for it. First, there will be a flight of dragonflies, and soon 
after, the butterflies will come. One thing more, you will 
not have long to wait.” 

‘‘That is a curious fact — the silence of the natives to- 
wards the summer people regarding anything that does 
not belong to the summer season. They seem to put it all 
down on a schedule and charge according to its place in 
the season or out of it.” 

“ Well, mother, they have reason,” said Frank. “ I have 
had some experience of summer guests this year — only as 
a looker-on, thank Heaven ! ” 

“ Frank, don’t say that again ! I dislike such things 
in conversation and I will not have them from my own 
children at least.” 

“I wasn’t the least bit wicked, mother! I meant it. 
I was thinking of the rudeness and inpudence, the coarse- 
ness and vulgarity these good, kind people have to put up 
with from these horrors out for the summer. You have 
always protected us carefully from boarders of all kinds 
and given very plain reasons for your objections to them. 
I never saw it until this summer, but I agree with Kate 


86 


Butterflies. 

Barton now. Yon know, she said, that no matter what 
people were or how they had been brought up before they 
went to board, they immediately became swine when they 
did, and the devil entered into them. I have seen lots of 
them this summer.’’ 

And they did not all rush down the steep into the 
sea,” said Helena, very seriously. Yes, Frank, you are 
right. People you have a right to expect better things of 
seem to forget all decency, all consideration for others 
when they are away from their home for the summer. I 
wonder if they recover their right mind when they do get 
back. I shall watch.” 

Helena ! ” said her mother, warningly. Hot exactly 
a kind way for either of you to speak, I think. But if you 
have learned so soon the unloveliness of such manners and 
customs, of course, you will never mortify us on your own 
account. You need only watch ” 

The flight of the butterflies ! ” cried Frank, springing 
up. I thought I saw one or two ! How, look at 
them!” 

Dragonflies I They were coming from all sides, but 
from where ? They did not seem to rise from the ground 
nor to fall from the sky, but they were instantly there, 
sweeping towards the west with a light, noiseless flight, 
hurried and a little uncertain, but swift and westward, 
rising as they went. For a minute or two, the swarm 
thickened, and then as swiftly diminished. The last thin 
ranks were brightened and varied by the wavering flight 
of a few scattered butterflies. 

Yes, it has come ! ” said Miss Hilson. I am so glad 
I happened to be with you or you might have missed it.” 


87 


Butterflies, 

They watched it breathlessly. There never was anything 
more beautiful. Like the dragonflies, they did not come 
from the ground nor fall from the sky, but myriads and 
myriads of them were there and coming from everywhere. 
Softly, slowly, steadily they floated on, of all colors, of all 
sizes, of all kinds. The shrubs in the small yard were en- 
folded in their gorgeous beauty, and palpitated with golden 
and brown and purple and white and black and blue. One 
branch that Frank went close to, in order to examine it, 
was clothed to its very tip with small yellow creatures, 
whose tiny wings fluttered ceaselessly and in unison. She 
counted seventy-seven of them, but they were constantly 
floating away and floating to cling for a minute to the 
branch, so she could not be sure of the number. On and 
on and on they passed, the very heavens softly shaded by 
their clouds of color. It must have been nearly an hour 
before the last stragglers came up aimlessly from the 
meadows, and wandered pitifully here and there as though 
they had lost their way and missed their guides. 

Oh, I would not have missed it for all the Chestnut 
streets in the world ! ’’ said Milly, who had not spoken 
during the flight. 

Well, Milly, I’m very sure I would not,” said Frank. 
^^How was I to know there were such wonderful things out 
of season ? Where are they going. Miss Hilson ? Has no 
one ever followed them to And out ? There is nothing out 
there but Great Bay, and they surely cannot cross it, wide 
as it is.” 

That is one of the things never yet revealed even to 
me,” answered Miss Hilson. ^‘If any of the people know, 
they will not say so. I went with the flight one day as far 


88 


Butterflies. 

as 1 could, and they did flutter out across the waters to- 
wards the west, but afterwards 1 found them in the pine 
woods. But they were all gone from that day, as they will 
be from to-day. You will see them no more until next 
spring. Then, perhaps, some day in March or April — I 
saw it once in March— you will find them clinging to 
the golden-rod on the sand dunes, and spring will be 
here.” 

That night, when they were alone in their room — Milly 
had long since been moved into the second story, going up 
and down the stairs on a lift she had invented — Helena 
found her companion very thoughtful, almost melan- 
choly. 

“What is the matter. Sweetheart ?” she asked caress- 
ingly. ‘‘ Is it anything I may share ? It is not time for 
another letter from your father, and he was so well in the 
last accounts.” 

“ Helena, you are not sorry you came here to bring me, 
are you ? I know you did come for that — principally for 
that, at least.” 

“Yes, we did come for that,” replied Helena promptly. 
“But we thought we had reason on our side as well as 
sentiment. We all wanted stirring up and shaking out of 
selfish ways, for when you live always among your own 
people, and things go on just as ‘our folks’ think they 
should, you do get ‘mighty hriggity aiT sot up,’ to quote 
Albert. Frank and I talked it over together and with 
mother, and we all agreed. And, oh ! what an experience 
of ‘ men and things ’ we have had already. Don’t you 
worry, darling ! Mother is quite, quite satisfied, and she 
knows.” 


Butterflies. 


89 


‘‘Well, I would not have missed to-day — nor any day 
since I came. But the butterflies ! And the dragonflies' 
wings ! Like little films and flashes of rainbows and crys- 
tals, wasn’t it ? And I used to be afraid of them 1 " 


CHAPTER X. 


MISS hilsom’s silver box. 

Miss Hilsom was right. The summer ended with the 
butterflies^ flight, and the mornings and the evenings 
were the fall indeed. Lovely and peaceful, and as unlike 
the season^s Gray Beach as possible, was it now. The 
villagers came out to new labors, and a different kind of 
activity was seen with each day. The fishing began, and 
then everybody went a fishin’.^’ The news would spread 
that they were catching, and away would go every one, 
leaving house and cares behind them, to wander up and 
down the radiant sands, where it was softly cool and 
gloriously fresh, and not at all like the blazing summer 
noontides. Everybody talked to everybody else and the 
men, in rubber boots that would have swallowed an ordi- 
nary boy of ten, waded into the surf and drew out great 
rolls of net, spreading them on the beach with many a 
dexterous swing. Unrolled, they revealed all sorts of a 
catch. Now, it was only seaweed, now it was shells and 
seaweed, skates and horrors without a name, now a gen- 
uine catch of fine marketable fish. Always, there was 
jesting and merriment, good-natured and uncomplaining. 
Albert was well known by this time, and he contributed 
no little to the life of such occasions, taking all sorts of 
fun with a comical grimness and returning all jests at his 
expense with wit and shrewd sense that he only ventured 

90 


Miss Hilso'n/s Silver Box. 


91 


upon, with a sly glance and a curl of the lip which showed 
that he meant all he said and understood it, too. 

The real gray days began, when everything, sea and 
sand and shore and sky, the very trees and houses, were 
of the same silvery hue, only darker and lighter, one 
against the other. Milly used to say they were the love- 
liest of all the days, and no color could compare with their 
soft mistiness. She was in the heart of them all, for her 
strength had returned, and Albert and she had so mas- 
tered the wheeled chair that it had to go where they 
chose to take it without a squeak. 

She was waiting for him one morning, and Frank was 
scolding in her way about his loitering and chattering. 
Frank and he were the only members of tlie liousehold who 
ever exchanged hot shot,” and she did pepper him 
sometimes, while he growled and grumbled in the most 
respectful manner possible to such utterances. There 
he comes now. If that old sinner hasn’t been to the 
other end of the place when he knew we were in a hurry ! 
He is coming from Miss Hilson’s.” 

He’s hurrying now, Frank,” called Milly through the 
window after her, as she ran in for her mother to '^come 
and settle him,” and I think he is worried about 
something, for he isn’t getting up any kind of a smile. 
I do hope there is nothing the matter with Miss 
Hilson.” 

Or Father Morgan or Father Drinker,” suggested 
Helena. always think of them, for both seem so del- 
icate.” 

Albert, where havejou been ? You ought good- 

ness ! what’s the matter ? ” 


92 


Miss Hilson^s Silver Box, 


Miss Hilson, she been robbed ! 

^^Eobbed 

Did they hurt her ? 

Eobbed of what ? ’’ 

Albert recovered his breath while the three sentences 
were uttered in as many different tones, and gave a brief 
and sensible account of it. He had heard it at the post- 
office, and, knowing well the limits of his liberty of action, 
hurried at once to headquarters for information. He 
found Miss Hilson quite prostrated. Her box of silver, 
although not large, was really filled with valuables, and it 
had been stolen. Stolen out of her own room during the 
night, the thief entering through the window and leaving 
it by the door, close beside her bed’s head. The old serv- 
ant on going down-stairs at day-dawn, had found the 
house open, so that considerable noise must have been 
made and great boldness and recklessness evinced by the 
burglar. 

She say, will some of our folks please come over dar. 
She mos’ dun ober by dis yer. An’ she want somebody 
wif some gumption to sen’ one of dem tally graf ter her 
folks in the city. I think she ’bout ready to git Miss Frank 
to sen’ it ’cause she so spry.” 

Yes, I think she will want me to do something of that 
kind. Mother, I’ll run on now, and you come as soon as 
you can, won’t you ? ” 

A broad smile spread itself over the three faces as the 
girls looked at each other, for Albert’s quiet little '‘dig” 
was most decorously given, and he went on into the house 
to lay down his packages with impenetrable dignity. 
Mrs. Marsden looked anxiously at Milly before she took 


Miss HiIso7i^s Silver Box, 


93 


up her sunshade to follow Frank. Any sudden shock 
had hitherto affected her by rendering her helpless, but 
this time she seemed undisturbed. But she and Helena 
elected to stay quietly on the porch, awaiting the return 
of one or the other who hastened to Miss Hilson’s aid. 
The party was broken up at any rate, for they were all 
going over to Great Bay through the woods. 

Mrs. Marsden was the first to return. Miss Hilson was 
really in quite a bad Way, for she had undoubtedly been 
chloroformed and heavily. As the sense of her loss be- 
came clearer and clearer to her, it grieved her more and 
more, and in her weakened condition she had not that 
control of herself that was best for her. She had sent 
Frank to Brighton-on-the-Sea, with a telegram, and to 
see the Mayor, without whose advice, they had long since 
learned, no one in the county thought fit to act. In the 
meantime, all the village had been there and was coming 
there, and appeared to intend circulating round there 
until the thief was cauglit. 

They have an idea he will soon be caught, but I think 
they will find it not so easy as they think. 

Do they think it was a tramp ? asked Helena. 

No, not a tramp. 

Milly looked up at the sound of the voice. 

They suspect Tom Netterley ! she exclaimed with 
conviction. 

‘^Yes, they do. Indeed, they are quite sure it was 
Tom, and have several very clever ways of doing it mapped 
out. I was surprised to see such intelligence of guilty 
schemes in this quiet people. They thin k he had an accom- 
plice, of course. Frank can tell more when she comes. I 


94 


Miss Hilson's Silver Box. 


was anxious about you, Milly. I thought you might feel 
the shock of such a trifle even, when you had time to 
think of it.” 

‘‘A trifle ? Why, mother ! Poor Miss Hilson does not 
think so.” 

Miss Hilson would perfectly understand why I say a 
trifle in this connection. I mean, in Milly’s case, it is a 
trifle compared with what it would have been had Albert 
rushed in bristling with news of any loss of life or terrible 
accident. This is a sore loss and grief to Miss Hilson, 
who held in great and loving veneration the things of her 
mother and father that were left to her. But had we 
heard of her death ” . 

Thank you, Mrs. Marsden ! I see it all now. But 
this did not do me any harm at all. I am very, very 
sorry, though ! ” 

Milly will begin worrying St. Anthony now,” said 
Helena. 

Milly colored to her curly locks. 

How do you know that ?” she asked, amazed. 

Never mind her, Milly. If you have found that St. 
Anthony is a good friend, you are in the right, and have 
made a friend who will not fail you. AVorry him, dear, 
as Helena expresses it, in Miss Hilson’s behalf without 
scru^fle, for she is one of his friends beyond doubt. 
Here comes Frank ! ” 

Frank had lots of news.” They were all sure it was 
Tom Netterley by this time, and the Mayor was surer 
than any one else. They had also ferreted out the story 
of the tramp the children found in the Lodge, and there 
were several who remembered seeing such a man with Tom 


Miss Hilson^s Silver Box, 


95 


Netterley several times, iii sus2)icious places and at odd 
hours. He had never appeared in the village, but it was 
evident now that he had been lurking about ever since 
the day of the treat ’’ and the Netterleys must have 
been in league with him and kept him supplied with 
food. The younger Netterleys were already under arrest 
and destined for the tank,” as they called the little ten- 
feet-square lock-up under the village supply of water for 
the primitive fire-engine. But Tom Netterley could not 
be found. 

I don’t believe he did it ! ” burst forth Milly. 

Now, Milly, what’s the use of saying that ? You al- 
ways have had the greatest fancy for those Yetterleys, 
haven’t you ? I’m sure I wonder why.” 

Milly was silent. Her lips trembled and her eyes 
filled. 

She pities them so much,” said Helena gently. You 
never knew the unfortunate Milly did not pity, he he dog 
or man, kitten or naughty girl at school. And the Not- 
terleys never have had a friend here, so far as I can hear.” 

Milly looked at her gratefully. 

And he looks so sad and so unhappy,” she said. Be- 
sides, I never have heard of anything but suspicions. 
Not one piece of mischief has ever been fastened on him. 
Fred has been caught, and Dan has owned up, hut Tom 
has ojily been suspected, while his brothers always have 
denied his share in their badness.” 

^^Dat’s dess so. Miss Milly. Dey do say dat boy too 
turrible bad to be cotch. De — de bad man — 'sense me, 
ladies ! — he helpin’ him ebery time.” 

Albert, you ought to be ashamed of yourself ! Say- 


96 


Miss Hilson^s Silver Box, 


ing such things right before mother, and not giving that 
poor hoy even a good wish. You know I tell you always 
you are an old sinner, and you are.^^ 

‘^Now, Miss Frank ! Fse a heap better dan de mostest 
people. An^ I hain^t a-wishin’ dat boy no wuss dan I wish 
all dem young uns — gibbin’ such sass as dey does. Why, 
dey don’ eben let dat ole Mis’ Pushcart hab no ducks in 
peace.” 

Miss Pushcart ? Who in the world is she ? ” 

Dat dar ole ooman down on de White Beach curve. 
She^s Mis’ Pushcart — so I calls her,” — marching out with 
great dignity and a heaped-up tray of dinner dishes. 

He means Madame Pechereau !” exclaimed Frank. 
And Albert in his pantry chuckled at the bell-like laugh, 
sweet and clear, that rang out over his mistake. 

I ’clar’ to man, dat gal laff ebery time she get de 
chance ! Ole Albert kin dess ’bout do hit, too. He mahe 
heap mo’ chances dan dey tink. He no fool, you min’ dat. 
No mo’ hain’t dat Torm Netterley, an’ dey hain’t gwine ter 
cotch him dis side de ribber. Dat dey hain’t ! ” 


CHAPTER XL 


TOM AMD HIS TROUBLES. 

Tom Xetterley’s story was a sad one. He was old 
enough when there came a change in his father’s fortunes 
to always retain a dim and exaggerated memory of golden 
days of plenty, when they lived in a splendid home of 
which his fair and gentle mother was the queen. He was 
boy enough to enjoy the first change to Bay Bluff, and 
not understanding it or his mother’s failing health, to be 
only glad of anything which kept her always at home and 
ready to hear when he had wonderful things to tell. But 
the next change went to his heart’s core. His mother died. 
Looking back at sixteen, he could not recall one thing 
after that like those he had been used to before she left 
them. 

One after another, housekeeper succeeded housekeeper, 
each less like the women he had seen in his mother’s time. 
The house grew poorer and more comfortless, the children 
wilder and more ragged, his father crosser, more careless, 
more stupid. Then came a day when there was no woman 
at all beneath the roof, and his father said he should get 
no one, that Tom and Fred must do what there was to do 
or go without it. The utter sense of helplessness, and dis- 
grace and anger at his father which possessed him on that 
day when he first heard this decision, he never forgot. It 
was something awful and sorrowful to him alwavs. But 

7 97 


98 


Tom and His Troubles. 


he was glad to remember that he began at once to try to 
do what he had to do. And after that ? Poor, poor boy ! 

The children grew up in spite of him unlike his mother’s 
little boys. The home grew wretched and ragged and dirty 
as the boys, their father grew into a dirty tyrant, never 
sober and sometimes raging drunk. Bay Bluff, lonely and 
utterly forlorn as it was, passed out of his hands, and they 
were huddled into a miserable hut near the colored peo- 
ple’s settlement at The Point. Tom’s heart was broken 
then, and he half determined to give up trying for any- 
thing,” for he had tried all this time. Heavy as was 
his load, helpless as he was, he had thought each day that 
as soon as he could ‘‘ get a start,” he would take matters 
in his own hands and they should improve. He never got 
that start. His father disappeared, and still there was a 
mill-stone of fate around his son’s neck, and the waves of 
a sea of troubles swept over him. 

It was strange that he had never really known how bad 
a reputation he and his brothers bore. Busied night and 
day making the miserable living, and carrying everywhere 
with him the mental weight of anxiety and shame which 
no one ever suspected, much that went on around him 
passed unnoticed and without his understanding it. Fred 
was not thus ignorant, and with a feeling they all had for 
Tom of mingled pity, respect, and scorn for his softness,” 
he helped to keep him in ignorance, and to increase the 
neighbors’ mis judgment. Fred was as truly ^ Mi is father’s 
son ” as Tom was his mother’s, and he cared nothing at all 
for the good or bad opinion of others. He enjoyed de- 
ceiving and tricking them. The other four were still 
small, Han, the eldest of them, being only twelve. 


Torn and His Troubles. 


99 


The day Frank Marsden asked Tom Netterley to lunch 
with them, and he accepted, was a marked day to him. He 
had heard of some work over at Brighton-on-the-Sea 
which was within his ability, and on his way to ask for it 
he had been attracted by the sound of the gay, gentle 
voices to the group on the beach. Many times before he 
had seen the summer guests in the season, but from a dis- 
tance, and without interest. Had it been the season, he 
would not have dreamed of passing on the board-walk. 
From the middle of June until the middle of September, 
the people of the place give way to the summer guests, 
and with a certain shy pride keep themselves and their 
own affairs in the background. But the Marsdens came 
early, and Tom had not heard of them ; therefore, he had 
started to town on the board-walk as the shortest way. 
Something in the party of ladies revived that dim, dear 
memory of his mother and her habits, and Milly in her 
wheeled chair, with her invalid’s wraps and comforts, 
helped the memory. The longing to see and to hear and 
to be one of such a circle conquered his pride and his 
shyness for the time, and he forgot in their kind courtesy 
the difference between their life and his. 

But he remembered it afterwards. Bitterly he re- 
called every sign and token of an existence to which he 
still insisted in his thoughts the Netterleys belonged, but 
from which their father had shut them out. Brooding 
and mourning in secret, Tom in that summer had gone on 
to new thoughts. He would get that start ” he would 
leave Gray Beach. He could do nothing more for the 
others there, and they were old enough to keep out of 
harm’s way. Besides, if he were to go, Fred would see to 

LofC. 


100 Tom and His Troubles, 

the little fellows. He would go— as soon as the season 
ended. 

The season was very near its close. It was the last 
week in September, and Tom was making his plans de- 
terminedly, but silently. It seemed best to him that he 
should slip out of Gray Beach and commence a new life 
untrammelled. He could keep an eye” on them, but 
they need know nothing of the quarter from whence that 
eye looked forth. He made many preparations for their 
comfort, poor soul ! poor indeed, but hard to procure and 
difficult to secure. At odd times and in a careless manner, 
he let fall words to Dan that he might recall and profit 
by, and to him, as to a confederate, he made known the 
hiding-places of some of the comforts. But he dropped 
no hint of departure, and he turned resolutely away from 
any good-by, even in thought, the night he left. 

It was several nights before the robbery. A moonlight 
night, clear and brilliant, even in the pine woods through 
which he was making his way. He had a long walk be- 
fore him to the nearest city, and he was shortening it 
while in the country with which he was familiar by cross- 
paths and “ bee-lines ” as he knew them. He was walk- 
ing rapidly along a cleared track not far from the Lodge 
in the AVilderness ” and thinking of some of the things 
Fred had told him of the fun ” connected with it, when 
the sound of bushes carefully parted startled him. He 
stood still and looked about him. As he turned to go on, 
there stepped into his path from behind a great pine, a 
tall, thin, slouching man in a wide hat. 

I think you’re a Hetterley ? ” he said at once in a low, 
sharp voice. 


Tom and His Troubles, 


101 


You can think what you please and I can^t help it/’ 
answered Tom, who did not like his looks even in that light. 

Here, now, you needn’t get lippy. I know you well 
enough. Your father told me what to look for, and I’ve 
had my eye on you this four weeks. You or the other 
fellow, I don’t care which, I have been laying for in that 
old rat-hole of a hut.” 

‘ ^ My father ! ” said Tom, as soon as he could speak after 
the shock. My father was drowned a year ago.” 

Not much he wasn’t — worth two or three dead men 
yet — for drinking whisky and raising a row, that is. For 
he ain’t worth much that is good. I'll own.” 

Where is he ? ” 

‘^That’s my lookout. You see, I can be lippy, too. 
I know where he is, and I’m enough to know for the pres- 
ent. AVhen you earn it, I’ll pay by telling you what I 
know. I want some information out of you.” 

Tom stood like a post, as upright, as silent, and as im- 
movable in his determination. This man should have 
nothing he could furnish at any price. 

^^I’m waiting for you,” said the man. 

You’ll get tired of that sooner than I shall.” 

Don’t you intend to ask me what I want ? ” 

No use in askin’, for I don’t intend to give you 
what you want.” 

‘"You’re Tom,” said the man. “ Your father told me 
if I got hold of you, you’d cut up ugly. But you might 
as well be obliging in a way. I shall have to leave here on 
the morning train, and I can’t wait for the other one. 
Tell me how many of the cottage folks are here now. I 
want to see one of them.” 


102 


Tom and His Troubles, 


Why don^t yon go and see him then? There’s none 
of them in hidin’. Any man who wants to can walk 
straight np to them in day-time, or go to the house in the 
evening.” 

There was a quiet scorn in Tom’s easy manner and 
simple words that enraged the man. With a curse, he 
struck at the young fellow, and Tom dodged the blow and, 
seeing the chance, darted past under the upraised arm, 
running swiftly on into the gloom. 

He heard a crashing and stumbling behind him for a 
little time, but he knew the woods as well as the open, and 
turned and twisted through the familiar way-marks in a 
course that soon distanced the man. He slackened his 
pace then, but kept on as briskly as he, could walk, think- 
ing deeply all the time. 

What did the man want ? Was it true that his father 
was not drowned ? If it was true, he must be in with this 
fellow and up to no good. What were they about to do at 
Gray Beach. This four weeks,” he said. Then he was 
the tramp who stole the children’s basket. Louis said the 
children wouldn’t play with him and August because they 
blamed that on the Netterleys. It had cut him so when 
the little fellow — his baby” — cried over it, that he half 
determined to go back and clear the Netterleys by reveal- 
ing the true thief. He was sure of him. Perhaps he ought 
to go back anyhow, and put the people on their guard. 
But, no ! He was off now. He had thought of it long 
enough, and he had decided to let them take care of them- 
selves at home. Why not let the others do the same ? 
He would go on. And here was Bay Bluff. 

He had come out on a broad open field, rising towards 


Tom and His TroubUs. 


103 


the north, and on the west overhanging the waters of the 
Bay in a steep bluff. Not far from the edge of the bluff 
stood a large square house, flat-roofed and crowned with 
an ornamental observatory. There was an air of deso- 
lation about it, though, and the great porches had holes 
in the roof through which the moonlight streamed on the 
broken floors. The adjacent stables and carriage house 
and the more remote barn were all shattered ruins, mere 
skeletons of timber. 

Tom was tired by his night run. He sat down on the 
grass in the shadow of tlie last pines, and looked long and 
sorrowfully at his lost home, lie was going over in his 
mind the look it used to wear in each particular. There 
was the window of his mother’s little dressing-room, where 
his small bed was placed once when he was sick for a day 
or two. How sweet she was, and how she petted him ! 
That was before they ever came to live there, for he had 
a nurse and his mother wore such lovely dresses — not like 
those at the last, which were only wrappers. And there 
was the dining-room, and that was his father’s room. 
For the first time in many years he recalled a gay young 
father, in fine linen and costly clothing, fresh, smiling, del- 
icately scented from the bath. A keen pang sent tears 
into his eyes. 

If he is living ! Oh, I cannot hope he is ! ” said the 
poor boy covering his face with his hands. 

When he looked up again, some one was crossing the 
open space around the house. It was such bright moon- 
light that the very shadows could be traced from a dis- 
tance, and Tom knew him for the man he had met in the 
woods. 


104 


Tom and His Troubles, 


He has come by the beach ! he exclaimed. He 
has been hiding there. Is father there ? ” 

The keenest interest he had ever felt in Bay Bluff 
rushed upon him now. The man went up to the side door, 
and stopped. A soft whistle like the cry of a bird waking 
in the night was heard. In a minute or two he passed 
through the noiselessly opened door. Then Tom^s keen 
eye caught the flash of a light, since he watched for it. 
The house was certainly occupied, and by those who 
wished to make it. a hiding place. Was his father one of 
them ? 

It was not very long before he saw several shadows glide 
out from the shadow of the building into the moonlight and 
go over the bluff. They were talking in low voices, as 
though perfectly sure there could be no one within hearing, 
although possible that they might be seen by some belated 
passer-by at a distance. Soon after their disappearance, 
the light touch of oars broke in regular time on the night’s 
stillness, and a dark shadow gliding into the white moon- 
light gave proof that they were gone for the present. 

Tom rose silently but resolutely. He stepped out into 
the light and walked steadily towards the house. 

I have a right here,^^ he thought, and I am that 
much ahead of them.’’ 


CHAPTER XII. 


AT BAY BLUFF AGAIiq-. 

As he neared the house, Tom stepped lightly and looked 
cautiously about. The desolation and decay became more 
apparent upon a closer view, and as he turned the angle 
of the far side, he saw that there was a faint glimmer of 
light from the broken cellar window not visible before. 
At the same time there was a sharp, broken cough that 
had a strangely familiar sound. Tom stood up straight, 
and raised his face to the far-olf, beautiful sky. That was 
his father’s cough he knew. He was there, then. 

He must go back. The children could not be left now. 
Fred must not be left uncontrolled and un watched, 
for although far from considering himself amenable in 
any way to Tom’s suggestions, Tom could and did keep 
the balance wavering between right and wrong. Without 
Tom, and with his father, there would be no consideration 
of the right for one-half minute. 

But, first, he would see him. He would make doubly 
sure by creeping up to that window, and peeping over 
the break in the shutter. But why was he down in the 
cellar ? The light burned steadily, though dimly, and there 
was no sound as of moving or packing away, as he at first 
supposed some one to be occupied. A low groan, followed 

105 


06 


At Bay Bluff Again, 

by the same cough, startled liim, as he knelt down and put 
his face to the broken window. 

He was so shocked by what he saw that he forgot to be 
on his guard. 

There was a bedstead in the cellar (one that he remem- 
bered up-stairs in his father’s room), but it had no 
bed on it, and only a coat or two thrown over the emaci- 
ated figure it held. It was his father, so thin, so worn, so 
white and ghastly, he would hardly have recognized him. 
His eyes were closed when he first saw him, but at the 
noise Tom made, they opened suddenly and in terror. 
Tom felt that he must see and know him at once, and he 
pushed aside the shutter with an impatient hand. 

Father ! What is the matter ? Has anybody done 
anything to you ? Have you been here all this time ? ” 

‘‘Oh, Tom!” 

It was a cry of relief and appeal. Tom looked at the 
small opening, tore off the sash and dropped through upon 
the cellar fioor. He looked defiantly around as he sprang 
to his feet. 

“ There is no one here,” said his father faintly, in 
answer to the look. “They will be back to-morrow 
night.” 

“ And leave you alone until to-morrow night ? You’re 
a pretty sick man for loneliness like that.” 

“ I’m worse than that. I am a dead man, all but the 
last breath. How did you know I was here ? ” 

“ I didn’t know it. We thought you were — drowned.” 

“ So Glascow said to-night. He met you in the woods, 
I know. Did you follow him ? ” 

“Ho. I was going away. I was tired of it down there. 


At Bay Bluff Again. 107 

and I thonglit Td start oat in some strange place and 
begin over again.’’ 

His father looked at him pityingly. 

You always wanted things different,” he said gravely. 

Well, you were right. You are right. Go as you in- 
tended, and begin over again.” 

I can’t now,” said Tom, simply. I can’t leave you 
now. And I’d better not let Fred get quite off the track. 
That fellow said he wanted one of us, and he’ll get Fred. 
Not if I can help it, though.” 

There was a long, terrible spell of coughing. Tom raised 
his father, and held him until it was over and he liad 
ceased to gas-p. Then he laid him gently down. 

Don’t stop for either of us ! ” feebly exclaimed the sick 
man. ^^We are not worth it, either of us. Go — go — 
while you can get awa}- — before they come.” 

^‘I’ll go up- stairs and get you out of this hole. What 
are you doing here ? 

Can’t burn a light up-stairs. It could not be hidden. 
And I could not lie here in the dark — not here of all 
places ! ” 

AVhy need you hide the light ? Why don’t you come 
home ? It’s better than this.” 

His father did not answer him. Tom looked at him 
steadily a moment, and then asked as steadily : 

Father, have you done anything that you have to hide 
from the law ? ” 

I — I — it isn’t much. But I got in with a bad crowd. 
I went off with them. It seemed an easy life. But they 
have finished me.” 

Tom sat on the side of the wretched bed and watched 


108 


At Bay Bluff Again, 

his father’s impotent tears with a numb, aching sense of 
helplessness and loss. It was all over for him again. No 
hope, no future, and the children must grow up as he 
had, only worse, for they had no memory of their mother — 
no crumbling link with better days ” to keep them from 
even some little harm. 

Father, I won’t leave you now. Let me get you out of 
here before they come back. I can hide you somewhere, 
if you must hide. But you won’t ask me to stay with that 
gang, will you ? ” 

His father gasped out something, and fell to coughing 
again. From that coughing attack he sank into a half- 
stupor, half-slumber, and Tom left him to determine what 
to do. He groped his way up the cellar-stairs and pushed 
open the door at the top which led into the side hall. 
From tiiere he wandered through the rooms, planning for 
the future and thinking of the past, until the moon went 
down. Then he went back to his father in the cellar. 

When morning came, he soon saw that there was no 
hope of removing his father. He was indeed at the last 
gasp — a dying man. Tom’s mind was soon made up. 
He found some few pieces of furniture up-stairs in pretty 
good order, and he gathered them into one of the rooms 
where the view was fairest and widest. He went out to 
the barn, and brought in an armful of dry hay left in a 
sheltered corner, spread it on the cot, and smoothed it as 
well as he could. Then he carried the wasted form up to 
this poor apology for a comfortable room, and laid him 
down. He seemed to feel the change and be grateful for 
it, but he was very far gone. Tom had a little money 
with him — a very little, for he had left nearly all he liad 


109 


At Bay Bluff Again, 

with the storekeeper for the winter’s stores, laughing 
when he did at his “ taking time by the forelock.” Now 
he went out to the nearest country store, and bought a 
few things of the plainest kind. As he hurried home, it 
flashed upon him that the gang had gone off the night 
before but would not return to-night. They had foreseen 
his father’s death, and left him to die alone. 

The end was not so near. Tom was ignorant of sickness. 
But the gang did not return that night. He and his 
father had their old home to themselves for some time 
forth, and the weeks wore on to months while they led 
their strangely lonely, hidden life, within the once laugh- 
ter-ringing walls. 

When his father rallied, he was better and stronger than 
had seemed possible, and quite capable of telling his story 
and deciding for himself what he would or would not do. 
He knew the secrets of the house, and he had a right — 
how obtained Tom dare not ask — to a share in the pro- 
visions and outfit stowed away in closets and bins once in- 
tended for far other uses. He was determined to remain 
there, and in spite of all Tom could urge, he persisted in 
his determination. And he kept Tom with him. From 
day to day and from night to night he raised the dismal 
specter of fast-approaching death, and while he told the 
boy to go, showed that he clung with all his feeble strength 
to his presence. Poor, poor Tom ! All unconscious of 
the robbery at Gray Beach while within a few miles of the 
place, all ignorant of the suspicions and the search for him, 
he was fighting against time and death in a self-imposed 
imprisonment and devotion to one he could only pity and 
try not to despise. But he did try hard and conquered. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE ^^BLUE BERBY TREE.’’ 

October had glided into November imperceptibly, so 
golden and balmy were the days. The cottage had lost 
all its summer outing look, and was warm and cozy and 
homelike with its curtains and carpets, its open fireplaces 
and heaped-up wmod -baskets. But the preparation had 
really been more for an ideal winter in the country than 
from any use they had yet been called upon to make of 
either fireplaces or wood-baskets. A few fragrant pine 
cones, or a few spicy chips and a bit of gray wreck kindled 
at evening for the sparkle and crackle of the many-colored 
jets of flame was all there had been any excuse for before 
Thanksgiving Day, which the village people kept more 
formally than the Marsdens were accustomed to see. This 
year, however, they heard so much of it from the children 
that it was a little more than a newspaper proclama- 
tion. 

Milly had been promoted by this time from the wheeled 
chair to the pony carriage, and Albert gave place very 
often to Helena or Frank as its driver. With plenty of 
pillows and cushions, Milly could even act as her own 
driver, or could sit for hours holding the gentle Lady- 
bird,” while the others wandered around her within call, 
collecting or sketching. The carriage held three very 


The Blue Berry TreeJ^ 


111 


comfortably, and the girls had taken np both these 
pursuits with great zeal. Then there was always a child 
to pick up if the third seat went begging.^^ The school 
would not open until January, and Milly^s heart was all in 
a class she had formed of the merry little wild birds who 
scoured the sands, racketed through the woods or climbed 
to the roof of every cottage in the place with the aid of 
its porches, shutters, and lightning-rods. They all seemed 
blessed with unseen wings, they went and came so 
safely and so swiftly through all sorts of dangers. Their 
open-air life and their constant open-eyed observation of 
all it presented had at last made her familiar with their 
knowledge of sea and shore, and kept them ever delight- 
ful companions to her. 

They had talked a great deal of late of the blue berry 
tree which they intended to use to dress the schoolroom 
for some sort of Thanksgiving supper of their very own, 
for neither Miss Hilson nor the Ocean Cottage party were 
invited to share in it even as spectators of its ^^play.’^ 
Still, it was freely discussed in their presence by the chil- 
dren, who were particularly eloquent as to the beauty of 
this blue berry tree.” 

That’s not its right name. It’s jumper or bird cedar 
or something ” began Annie Merton one day. 

Why, no, ’tain’t, Annie ! How you do talk ! ” corrected 
Leila and Emily in a breath. ‘'It’s juniper tree.” 

“ It’s gin bush,” put in another little wiseacre. “ You 
just ask Alissa if ’tain’t. Her mother makes tea out of 
it.” 

“ ’Deed she don’t, then. It’s real pisen. ’Tain’t good 
for one thing but pretty.” 


113 


The Blue Berry TreeJ^ 


This was Louis Netterley, and there being forthwith a 
general shindy,” as some of them called it, he brought 
out the claim to knowledge of a superior order ’cause 
the bestest and biggest of all the trees grew out to Bay 
Bluff.” 

“ You jest go out there, Miss Milly, and see if they don’t. 
’Tain’t far — oii’y ’bout five miles round the road.” 

It is so, Louis Netterley. It’s ten miles good. But 
the trees are bigger out there, sure enough. Grandfather 
and some of the men are going out there for Thanksgiving. 
They’re going in Mr. Folsom’s big wagon.” 

I’m a-going, too,” said Dan, who had not been with 
them before for a long time, and seemed bigger and rougher 
and more scowling than ever before. 

No, you are not, either. It’snot a safe place for boys. 
There’s a lot of tramps up there in the old barn. Grand- 
father says so, and he knows.” 

Well, really, you all seem to be at cross-purposes to- 
day,” said Milly. I think I shall end these disputes 
this way— I shall go over to Bay Bluff and examine the 
trees myself. Whatever I decide upon you must agree to 
accept, or we cannot talk trees any more. I cannot have 
quarreling here, because it takes my strength even to 
listen.” 

All right! We’ll agree,” they said good-naturedly 
enough, and forgot to contradict each other in the profuse 
directions and long catalogue of sights and scenes she was 
to look out for on the way there and back. 

She went the next day. It was the longest drive she 
had attempted as yet, but she had heard many speak of its 
beauties^ #pd the pMldren’s discussion ha^ only strengths 


The Blue Berry TreeJ^ 


113 


ened her wish and determination to go tliere to the point 
of starting. Helena was her companion, and Albert oc- 
cupied the odd seat at the back, for they must have a 
protector even down there ’’ when going such a distance. 

They started early, but it was high noon when they 
reached the spot selected as their destination. It was on 
the edge of the open space surrounding the deserted Bay 
Bluff residence, and not far from the edge of the bluff — in 
short, very nearly on the spot where poor Tom Hetterley 
had rested after his night’s run more than four weeks 
earlier. The trees they had made the special object of 
their drive stood in a thick group a little to the south, 
making a deep, steel-blue touch of color amid the surround- 
ing darker pines. They were certainly beautiful, and 
Milly begged for as many branches and bits as they could 
carry home, for lovelier and more fragrant decoration could 
not be found. She insisted that Helena should go to 
select, the very prettiest of all,” and Albert accompany 
her to cut them, while she would sit comfortably in the 
sunshine, and look at the bay and make up” romances. 

There never was a place more suited to such making 
up,” said Helena, but Albert looks as if there might be 
something truer than fiction in the romance of the scene. 
What was it you said about the house, Albert ? Is it 
haunted ?” 

'^Albert is not a believer in ^haunts.’ Are you, 
Albert ? ” 

Yes, ma’am, I is. W’en de rite time cums, I hain’t 
agwine war no hants git a holt on me. But dat time hain’t 
now. I’s heap mo’ skeered ’bout dem old tramps dey do 
say hez sot up der ’bode in dat house an’ barn. Hit hain’t 

8 


114 The Blue Berry Tree,^^ 

safe, Miss Milly, Meed hit liain^t, to leab you yer by you’ 
lonesome selb.’^ 

Why, Albert, you need not go out of sight. And I’ll 
promise to make you hear if I need you. Now do go, for 
we must start home early.” 

They humored her, for, really, there seemed no reason 
in the fear they expressed. The stillness was unbroken, 
for the waters of the bay come in slowly and silently, un- 
like the smallest ocean wave. The long grass swayed a 
little in the wind, and it was so soothing and dreamy 
around her that Milly must have fallen into a doze, from 
which she was startled by a low, shocked, unfamiliar 
utterance of a most familiar sound. 

Miss Milly ! ” said some one at her side. 

She opened her eyes on Tom Netterley. 

In an instant she sat up wide awake and rather fright- 
ened. Something in his voice and more in his expression 
told her there was something to fear. He looked worn and 
white and wretched — besides, they had been searching 
everywhere for him without being able to find him or to 
hear of him. 

Oh, where have you been ? ” she cried, but in the 
suppressed voice his own exclamation suggested. ‘‘Why 
couldn’t they find you ? Oh, you didn’t take it after 
all ! ” 

In her confused awakening, whether from waking or 
sleeping dreams, the words came tumbling out before she 
could collect herself. 

“ Take what ? Who looked for me ?” was the sudden, 
sharp answer. “ Who wants me more than I am wanted 
here ? 


The Blue Berry Tree,’’ 


115 


‘‘Oh, I beg your pardon ! ’’ cried Milly, now fully alive 
to the relations between Tom Netterley and herself, which 
were certainly of the slenderest kind. I only remembered 
— I was so surprised — that every one has been wondering 
where you had gone. And I never did believe you took 
\t,” 

Took what ? There you go again ! ’’ 

Miss Hilson^s silver box.^^ Milly came out as directly 
as he could have wished. Then, as his blank and darken- 
ing face told the truth to her eyes : It was taken about 
the time you went away, and Mayor Crescenz thinks you 
— thinks you might — find it.” 

The boy stood silent and staring for along, long minute, 
but meeting the girTs clear eyes fearlessly. 

“ I never heard such a box was stolen — never, so surely 
as I stand here ! But I see — I understand something I 
did not understand before. Mayor Crescenz is nearer 
right than he ought to be when he means only to suspect 
an innocent fellow, whose luck is down on him. I believe 
I can find it ! ” 

But what are you doing here ? ” 

‘‘ What are you doing here ? ” 

came — we came — the others are in there — to see the 
^blue berry trees.’ I sent them to get me some of the 
branches.” 

Who are they ?” 

“ Miss Marsden and her servant. Albert, you know.” 

His face took a sudden firmness and decision. 

They’ll be back in a minute or two, and I don’t want 
them to see me. But you are safe, since they are with you. 
Miss Milly, you’ve done lots of good since you came to 


110 


The Blue Berry TreeT 


Gray Beach, and I believe you belong to people who are 
always doing good. You’re a Catholic, ain’t you ? ” 

No,” faltered Milly. Not — not yet. But the others 

are. And they are good.” 

Well, I’ll risk it. I’ve got to, and be quick about it. 
Miss Milly, you know everybody thought my father was 
drowned last year ? ” 

^^Yes.” 

He wasn’t — he’s here. He’s in that house, hiding 
and dying. Yes, it’s true.” 

Milly’s pale face of shocked fear and pity braced him to 
the telling of his tale quickly and strongly. 

I never knew it until last month. I found him here. 
I was going to leave these parts, and start out in life for 
myself, and make something of myself like the other 
Netterleys — we belong to a good family — and I came here, 
where my mother died, the night I left, and found him. 
Miss Milly, I couldn’t go — I couldn’t leave him. And he’s 
dying — he really is. It’s awful — you can’t think it half 
as awful as it is. There’s a lot of tramps and thieves and 
such camped out in that house — it’s safe enough, and it’s 
handy and near the bay v/here they can slip in. Father 
went off with them last year, and now he’s in their power, 
and he’s afraid of them and he’s afraid of the law. Oh, 
Miss Milly, you don’t know what I have been through ! 
But I can’t go while he lives. It won’t be long now — 
it canH, And I want you to tell your priest. Their 
priest, I mean, but it’s all the same. Don’t tell any one else 
till you’ve told him. I’ll trust him to know what to do — 
what to tell and what to keep. Father used to be a Catho- 
lic and mother, too, but — they forgot it. I’ve watched 


The Blue Berry TreeT 


117 


that priest, though, and I know he’s good. He’ll never fail 
you. But don’t — for the good Lord’s sake, don’t tell any 
one till you’ve told him.” 

‘‘ Will it get you into trouble ? ” 

“ Never mind that. I can’t get into worse trouble than 
I’m in here and now. I never did anything to hide from 
the law — never once in my life, and you believe me. I’ve 
had no chance, but I’ve tried to do tlie best I could. I 
don’t belong to these men any way at all, and I don’t pre- 
tend to them I do. They know I’m only here for father. 
They’re bad, but they let me do for him. They’re not 
here to-day — off on some mischief. When I first found 
father they were off, and when they did come, I am pretty 
sure they brought that box. Here comes the lady ! Miss 
Milly, give me your word you’ll tell him first ! ” 

“ I will tell the priest as soon as I get home, and I will 
tell no one else until I have told him.” 

It was solemnly said. Tom’s face brightened. He took 
his hand from the wheel where he’ had rested it in his 
earnestness, waved it gratefully, and dropped out of sight 
into the tall grass. The next minute, Milly saw him slip 
over the edge of the bluff wliile she was welcoming and 
admiring and making a general diversion of the heaped-up 
blue berry tree.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A HELPING HAND.^’ 

It was a silent drive home. Helena talked at first, but 
she soon found that Milly Avas not in the humor, and fear- 
ing that she might be overtired, arranged the cushions 
deftly and drew her into the curve of one arm so that she 
rested so comfortably against her shoulder that she did 
indeed sink into the light sleep which came to her noAV so 
easily and always Avith health on its Avings. She did not 
Avake until they Avere driving through the Avoods and near 
the church. AVith tlie first glimpse of its overhanging 
roof, she remembered Tom’s commission, and a sudden 
inspiration prompted her to see if she could arrange an 
intervieAV at once and tell his story. 

“ 0 Helena ! let us stop and leave some of these beau- 
tiful branches here. AYe can, just as easily as not, for I 
am not tired now — not at all tired. You can put some 
on the altar, and the whole place Avill be fragrant with 
our offering.” 

It was one of the Avays ” the Marsdens had with 
Milly — as well as with many another non-Catholic friend — 
never to speak to her of their faith unsolicited, but never 
to hesitate to reply to any question she might ask, and 
always at any co'st to themselves of time or exertion to 

take her into the Presence of the Blessed Sacrament 
118 


A Helinng Hand.’^ 


119 


whenever it was possible, particularly if she expressed a 
wish to go. What might not come of even one single mo- 
ment of time there ! What might not our dear Lord 
lovingly bestow upon one who came before Him — above 
all, upon one wishing to leave an offering on His altar 
even in loving ignorance ? 

To turn the horse’s head into the quiet corner between 
the cliurch and the house was the work of a moment. 
Albert crawled out from the heaped-up greenery he was 
guarding on the back seat, and lifted Milly from her 
cushions. 'Father Morgan came from the house porch to 
welcome them, but Helena explained that they had not 
time for the call at the house which he urged. 

Put me down on the step, Albert, and carry some of the 
branches into the church for Miss Helena. A^ou can 
carry me in when you have done that, and I can wait for 
her. I want to speak to Father Morgan now, if he has 
time to spare to me.” 

Fatlier Morgan had plenty of time, and he seated him- 
self smilingly on the step for a little pleasant chat. But 
Milly explained to him at once and with directness which 
gave proof of its importance that she had a commission 
to discharge of a serious nature, and of which she must 
rid herself speedily and secretly. 

If I have time, I shall tell you all now, but if we are 
interrupted before I finish, will you please see that I have 
another chance as soon as possible ? I think it is a mat- 
ter of life and death.” 

Quickly and concisely as possible, she told Tom’s story, 
and Father Morgan listened intently. 

Tell this to Mrs. Marsden as soon as you reach home,” 


120 


A Helping Hand^ 


he said at the close, ^^for it may be necessary to consult 
with her and with you, and thus all awkwardness may be 
avoided. I do not know what might result if the story 
were to get abroad, but I hope great good may come of 
this, my child. That poor Tom Netterley ! 1 feel al- 

most as though he had been neglected, and yet — there is 
so much to do, and it must be so delicately done. But 
we can surely help him now, and break up a nest of the 
old serpent, the evil one.” 

Helena came out then and Albert carried in the help- 
less girl who was still trying to help others. He bore 
her reverently to the altar rail, and supported her while 
she admired the fair beauty of the spotless white and rich 
dark green of linen and cedar around the Tabernacle. 
It was only for a passing moment, but her prayer went 
out from her very heart — for her own wants and for the 
far poorer and more helpless dying man and his son, and 
for the whole world in pain and sorrow. 

She went immediately to her room on her return home, 
knowing that Mrs. Marsden would follow her there to see 
that she had not over-exerted herself and was able to find 
rest. Mrs. Marsden had a gentle mother’s nature to be- 
gin with, and was most conscientiously faithful in the dis- 
charge of her self-assumed duties towards Mr. Aveling’s 
cherished daughter. Her constant thought was first for 
the lonely girl — who richly repaid her affectionate inter- 
est by a love as tender as a daughter’s and as grateful as 
only a fine nature feels for sympathy and consideration. 

You must lie down at once, Milly dear, and sleep if 
you can until tea is ready. Ho, we must not talk — not 
even to Frank, who has been lonely enough without you 


121 


A ^‘Helping HandJ^ 

both. Go out, Frank ! You really must leave her in 
quiet.’’ 

A moment, please — just a moment ! ” as Frank re- 
luctantly withdrew. "‘It is something Father Morgan 
said I should tell you as soon as I reached home, and I 
cannot rest until I do. I have seen Tom Netterley ! I 
believe we have found Miss Hilson’s box ! ” 

The suppressed excitement was telling on Milly now, 
or she would never have made so dramatic an announce- 
ment. But she was a sensible girl, and the rest of the 
story was more in her usual style. Mrs. Marsden was all 
interest, of course, and she perfectly understood the relief 
it was to tell her. 

“Well, that was a strange thing to happen — but things 
do not happen. You were sent thereto help, dear. You 
see how often your helplessness seems to help other people ? 
Tom Netterley has heard of you through the compassion- 
ate kindness of the people and the children who have 
been so attentive to you, and then, you seemed removed 
to his fancy from the matter-of-fact world around you. 
He had courage to trust you when he could not have 
trusted any one with two swift feet to carry his secret far 
and wide.” 

She stooped to kiss the sensitive, earnest face, and 
Milly put her arm around her neck. 

“But— he thought I was a Catholic,” she said, softly. 
“ That was what did it. He believed in them.” 

“ Thank God if that is true ! Oh, if only we were 
true to Our Lord’s teaching and example, they must all 
believe — all who do not know Him yet ! But there is 
the " little leaven ’ even here.” 


122 


A Helping Hand^ 


There is a good deal of it here,’^ said Milly, as she 
settled herself on her pillow, for she saw Mrs. Marsden 
was ready to leave her because she thought she ought to 
go to sleep. The other day we were coming by the 
church, and the children begged me to stop with them 
and let them see inside the door. Albert carried me, and 
we went just inside. I wish you could have seen the dear 
little faces ! They never said a word, but little Alissa 
put her little brown hands together with such a look of 
reverence and love and peace ! And the others were so 
good. I think they feel without knowing it — what is in 
the midst of their homes. I — I know I do.” 

She closed her eyes resolutely, and shut out so far as 
she could every thought that could disturb and excite her. 
She, too, was conscientious in her efforts to get well. 
The unspoken thought was always there, and she deter- 
mined to do all she could, painful, tiresome, irritating, 
useless as it might seem. 

And, if, after all is done that I can do, I am no better 
I shall know it is God’s will to keep me so. I believe then 
I can give up and be glad. There are so many blessings. 
But there are trials and sorrows, too, and if it is not His 
will, — if He leaves it to me and I am a coward or lazy — then 
He may take the blessings away. And there is papa ! 
Hor his sake, T must not let a chance slip.” 

Some such thought was in her mind as she curbed heart 
and brain, and held herself to the quiet which brought 
sleep. The drive did her no harm, and although the sil- 
very gleam of the berried branches and their strange 
spicy odor always recalled the face of Tom Netterley and 
his agitated voice, nothing of the excitement through 


A ‘‘Helping Hand.^* 


123 


which she had passed seemed to remain with her after she 
awoke from her slumber. 

Father Morgan had a difficult matter to adjust within 
his own mind. What Tom had said of his father’s hav- 
ing been a Catholic and what Milly had graphically shown 
to be Tom’s own position and desire, added more than 
common interest to the matter. He wished it were 
possible to go at once to the lonely boy, and, with him, 
to bring about some change in his father’s condition and 
his own. But there was so much to do and, it had to 
be so delicately done.” The community at large had no 
love for the Netterleys and no belief in any goodness 
possible to them. To call attention to the Bay Bluff 
house, to bring to notice the fact that it was really occu- 
pied by a gang of roughs” and that old Hetterley” 
and Tom were there, would render it impossible to help 
poor Tom or to separate him from the disgrace and the 
consequences that would forever shadow and oppress 
him. 

Yet he must see to it that the house was cleared and 
the country at large protected from the ravages of the 
gang. Miss Hilson’s silver box was not the only valuable 
that had disappeared of late. There had been slight 
thefts in Brighton-on-the-Sea, and in two or three small 
country towns and villages, which were evidently the work 
of practised hands. He would have liked to go at once to 
Mayor Crescenz and put it all under his direction. But 
some effort must be made to reach Tom first. 

He went down the next morning to see Mrs. Marsden, 
and hear again what Milly had told him hurriedly, if 
clearly. Then he drove at once over to Bay Bluff, alone 


124 


A Heljnng Hand.^^ 


but prepared, at least, to defend himself if need be, with 
a stout stick he had not forgotten how to handle in many 
peaceful years. 

He was too late. The men from the village had gone 
over for the greens an hour earlier, and had gone in 
strong force, determined to sweep the house and barn, if 
they found tramp or trace of tramp. Men were flitting 
to and fro, calling to each other and shouting out dis- 
coveries, but they were all well-known faces and familiar 
voices to Father Morgan as he drove across the once 
carefully tended lawn. 

^^Well, I declare, Mr. Herbert, I never expected to 
And you one of Hhe gang,’^’ he saluted Leila^s grand- 
father as he drew up before the porch. 

No more didn’t I expect to And you hobnobbing with 
them,” laughed the jolly old gentleman, but we’ve 
caught you, at any rate. Better one of ’em than none 
of ’em.” 

Then they had warning ! ” exclaimed the priest. 
“Did they leave traces you can make use of to follow 
any one ? I heard of a sick man here — a dying man — and 
I thought it a duty to investigate matters. But I was 
not sure, until I heard of him, that there was any one in the 
old house. Was it more than rumor, do you think ?” 

“Don’t have to think. It’s all as plain as print. 
They must have gone off in a hurry, for they are gone and 
no mistake, and left all sorts of rubbish but a dyin’ man 
behind ’em. Come in — come in ! Just see for your- 
self ! ” 

Father Morgan saw for himself. The lower rooms were 
bare enough, but those in the upper stories were heaped 


A Helping HandJ^^ 


125 


with a confused medley of provisions and old clothes, 
newspapers and worthless books, some few articles of 
comparative worth, and one or two of the stolen things rec- 
ognized by different members of the party. A fine tele- 
scope, securely mounted at the window having the widest 
sweep of view across country, had been taken several 
weeks before from the house of a pilot in Brighton. This 
was in one of the rooms under the roof. In one of the 
second story rooms there was a fairly comfortable bed, 
a table on which was a bottle of medicine, a chair and 
several books of a better class. This, he felt, must 
have been the room where Tom nursed and watched his 
father. 

You see,^’ said old Mr. Herbert, they’ve been here, 
sure enough. They must have had a fellow on the look- 
out and when our wagon came in sight before we got to 
the long lane, they scented danger and put out. Tide’s 
all right for it, and their boats were always ready. That’s 
the way we come to be sure they were here. Seen the 
boats every other time or two we come round this way 
’most all summer.” 

There was nothing for it but to swallow the disappoint- 
ment. The men from the village solaced themselves 
with a close search, the recovery of the stolen goods and 
the confiscation of everything of any value, and with their 
festival boughs. But Father Morgan drove home slowly 
and thoughtfully. He was relieved, but he was saddened 
and anxious. 

Milly was depressed and grieved for several days, and 
forced to keep it to herself. Naturally, her part in the 
adventure impressed her more than if she had been ^Hike 


126 


A ‘■^Helping Hand” 


other girls/’ and able to change the scene at will or seek 
new interests^ when the humor seized her. Then, she 
did pity the Netterleys. They had been one of her fan- 
cies and self-imposed cares ever since she first heard of 
them — more than ever now. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A DULL CHRISTMAS FOR SOME PEOPLE. 

Mother, do you know that next Thursday will be 
Christmas Day ? Xext Thursday, mind ! Not even a 
week 

“ Yes, I know it — I certainly do know it, but I do not 
feel it in the least. There is nothing in the air that 
breathes of Christmas.” 

That is exactly what I meant to express. I never 
spent such a Christmas in my life. I have made all my 
Christmas presents, and I go up and look them over 
twenty times in the day to stir up some kind of feeling. 
But it seems so early for it.” 

I think that is the weather. Roses in bloom and a 
green bank under one’s window is something most un- 
Christmas- like to us. Then, it is so quiet. No one around 
us prepares, and we have lived where the whole com- 
munity went wild over the Christmas holidays. But 
when you and Helena find yourselves on Chestnut street, 
you will find Christmas, never fear ! Now be off with 
you, for it is almost train time.” 

I wish you were going, Milly ! ” said Helena, as she 
kissed her good-by. ^^It’s the first Christmas since 
we have known each other that we have not been in the 
atores together.” 

127 


128 


A Dull Christmas for Some People, 

You will have the more to tell me/’ said Milly cheer- 
fully. ‘‘You must both come home with all the news 
you can carry. And do not forget to come home ! ” 

“ To-morrow ! To-morrow ! ’’ cried Frank, waving her 
umbrella as she ran out the gate. Mrs. Marsden and 
Milly returned to their unfinished breakfast. 

“ I wonder if I shall ever feel like the old-time Christ- 
mas again ! ” said Milly a little wistfully. “ It used to 
be the most wonderful day in all the year.” 

“ I think it will be again, dear,” said Mrs. Marsden — 
to whom alone Milly expressed the shade of sadness that 
occasionally darkened her spirit. “ I look forward for 
days of happiness for you — not backward. I see you im- 
proving each day in mind and body, and we have such 
encouraging news from your father of his health and for- 
tunes that you may say even now your lines have fallen 
to you in pleasant places, with glad hope in the future. 
And if you should have a cross to bear, you have shown 
yourself ready and willing to fill the breaks in your old 
life. Yes, I hope even this may be a happy Christmas, 
when you think of it — and of all that Christmas 
means.” 

“ It shall be ! ” said Milly after a little thought. “ I re- 
member I have said that I could not understand how Christ- 
mas Day could be sorrowful to any one. It seemed to me 
then that every care or sorrow or regret ouglit to be lost 
entirely in the meaning of the day, if it has any meaning 
at all. To people who are good Christians, I mean. To 
Catholics above all. Now I shall practise my own theory, 
for I know all it should mean, and it must. What kind 
of a time are they going to have here, Albert ? You go 


A Dull Christmas for Some People, 129 

about a good bit — do you see and hear ‘ Christmas in the 
air ’ ? 

‘^Sometimes I doz an’ sometimes I dozen't. Dar’s a 
heap o’ cookin’ in some of dese houses, an’ de bery nex’ 
house — hit hain’t got nothin’ to cook.” 

“ 0 Albert ! You don’t mean that really ? ” 

I ralely an’ truly does. Dat little ooman wif ten or 
’leben chil’ens ober yander by ole Mis’ Herbert’s house — 
she hain’t got one libin’ ting fer dem chil’ens dis day. I 
hea’ dat baby axin’ fer sumpin’ to eat, an’ she hain’t got 
hit to gib him.” 

But — it might be she did not ivant to give it to him 
then?” 

Ho, ma’am. Mis’ Marsden, I don’ mean dat. Mis’ 
Herbert, she say she know dat so wif dat ooman, an’ she 
mus’ dess holp her. An’ Mr. Folsom, he say so, too. 
But you know. Mis’ Marsden, ole’ Mis’ Herbert an’ Mr. 
Folsom, dey got ter holp eve’ybody. Dey can’t fill up 
dem whole ten, ’leben chil’ens deyselbs.” 

Well, I suppose you could help a little, if I help you ? ” 

Albert chuckled. 

I reckinyou ’bout right. Miss Milly. If Mis’ Marsden, 
she gib me some advisement, I kin holp shuah.” 

^MVe’llall advise together, Albert,” said Mrs. Marsden, 
^^and make more than a dull Christmas to some people 
outside of the house as well as in.” 

The result of the ‘‘advisement” was that Helena and 
Frank came home the next evening to find themselves 
eagerly expected and wonderful works in progress. Mrs. 
Marsden had tact and heart-warmth. People opened 
their skeleton closets to her, and talked of modest chari- 
9 


130 


A Dull Christmas for Some People, 

ties they would not have owned to many. She had a chat 
with Mr. Folsom and a call on Mrs. Herbert to use 
with good intent. Not as the well-to-do seeking the less 
fortunate to dispense Christmas duty charity, but as the 
kindly neighbor interested and sympathetic, feeling the 
pressure of the link forged by the Creator between every 
one He brings near. ^'Yes, Mrs. Marsden, I might as 
well tell you that you Ocean Cottage folks are a heap of 
comfort to poor Mrs. Donny. She told me no longer ago 
than yesterday that many a time you give her children the 
only mouthful of victuals they get in the whole day. I 
know you had no such thought, for it comes just as 
natural as breathing to hand the children a piece, don’t it, 
now ? Fm sure I find it so, for that Leila of mine is always 
ready for it and I take it all the others are Leila over 
again. But they don’t all have the comforts her grand- 
father has provided for her and me. I tell her that, 
and she’s real good about taking notice in a quiet way, 
and real generous about sharing with others. She often 
whispers to me ^ Em’ly hasn’t had her breakfast yet, and 
it’s dinner time now.’ Or else, ‘Jimmy Donny’s looking 
at the cake real hard. Let me give him my piece.’ 
And I always let her give it to him without giving her 
another in its place. I tell you what, Mrs. Marsden, 
the people that has it has to learn to do without it or 
they’ll never find they have enough to go round with the 
people that hasn’t it.” 

Mrs. Marsden and Mrs. Herbert came very near each 
other in that afternoon talk, and Mrs. Herbert decided 
after they separated that she would go over to Mrs. 
Marsden’s church some morning. “It must be a good 


131 


A Dull Christmas for Some People. 

enough church that helps to make a rich woman like that 
so homely like,” she concluded, ^^and it don^t seem very 
Christian-like never to go near them — specially when there 
is no other church nearer than Brighton.” 

Mrs. Marsden went home by the beach to think it out. 
It was so with them all, that habit of going home by the 
beach when they were in the mood for thinking. It was 
calm and bright and still, with a light on the sea like a 
quiet smile on a peaceful face. Such an hour never comes 
to a crowded city, not even to the highest story of its 
tallest building, although they are lifted into the light 
indeed. How natural it had always been to connect such 
stories as she had just heard with the city streets and 
alleyways, while how far real want had always seemed for 
the country ! At Koseburn, there really were no poor — no 
hungry poor. Money was plenty, work was plenty, wages 
were high, and comfort, at least, wa3 within reach of 
every one except the criminally idle and wasteful, who 
were soon expected to move on ” and moved accordingly. 

But here it was different. Money only came to Gray 
Beach in the pockets of the summer guests. There was 
but the brief three months’ harvest, and to those who 
could not sow and reap in that time there was no further 
gleam of sunshine unless they could fish or go oyster- 
ing.” The widow and the fatherless must depend upon 
the open hand, always extended even when thinly veiled 
or lightly crossed with silver. Could it be possible, Mrs. 
Marsden asked herself, that those blithe and merry little 
ones came often under her roof hungry and uncomplain- 
ing ? The fellowship of childhood, that true democracy 
which heeds neither coat nor color, had presented the 


132 


A Dull Christmas for Some People. 

cliildren all in one light, and while she had noted some 
slight difference in the outer garb, she had supposed it 
owing to less taste, less industry, less interest in such 
matters, ratlier than to a difference of means in their differ- 
ent homes. Yet here were children running in and out 
side by side, some of whom were well fed and well clothed, 
while tlie others were penniless and empty and clad in all 
they possessed, scanty as was the allowance. And she 
had never suspected it. Truly, they were of sterner stuff 
than she had thought, sturdily uncomplaining, proudly 
reticent, even in their babyhood. A mighty people is 
bred up within the sound of the waves in more lands than 
one or two. 

So Mrs. Marsden went home, with a look towards the 
cross on the spire, and a prayer from her heart to the 
Sacred Heart to which the cross belongs. And she and 
Milly, sitting 6ozy over tlieir tea, quiet enough without 
the girls, talked and planned and pitied and grew eager 
in lovely fashion. 

The next morning they began their labors, with Albert 
and his gathered wisdom to assist. Miss Hilson, too, was 
summoned and replied gladly. She had been away for 
some time, vainly trying to trace her valued box. Milly 
and Mrs. Marsden dared not tell her what they knew, 
although Milly was firm in the belief that Tom Netterley 
would appear and reveal something that might lead to its 
recovery or to the certainty of its fate. 

Time was short, but with Brighton-on-the-Sea only a 
few miles away, and a purse with a bottom farther off 
than Brighton, much could be accomplished in a few days. 
Mrs. Marsden had intended a family feast, of course, but 


133 


A Dull Christmas for Some PeoiAe, 

strictly confined to her own family. With both the fathers 
away, she and the three girls would keep it alone this 
year, and next year — well! Wonderful things, as Mrs. 
Marsden often said, might happen in a year. But now, 
in the light of recent revelations, the feast must change 
its order, and must bring in the many from the wayside. 
How to get them was the question. It must be done in- 
formally and must include all, or they could not get hold 
of the Netterleys, who must come. 

It was Frank who solved the riddle. 

Wefil have a Christmas tree,” she decided, rising up 
and calmly announcing it with the manner she always as- 
sumed when a disputed point cleared itself a path through 
the mists of her mind. 

‘‘A Christmas tree!” exclaimed the others aghast. 
‘^A Christmas tree with two days for preparation, and 
not one thing to put on it within reach ! You must he 
crazy.” 

I am as sane as ever I was in my life. IFs the only 
thing that will do it right. Wefil have a Christmas tree, 
and invite all the children — and any one else Avho likes — 
to come to see it on Christmas morning about eleven 
o’clock. Then we shall have the table set out, and the 
dinner ready, and we shall invite them in. The table 
shall stand all the rest of the day, and every one who 
comes in shall be taken out and treated as well as we 
know how. Every one will^^be welcome, will know that 
he is welcome, and will not feel that there is any favor 
shown. For these people are properly proud, let me tell 
you. They are out-and-out Americans, and they know 
no superiors. They are polite and kind to everybody and 


134 A Dull Christmas for Some Peoi^le. 

they insist on the same treatment or on being left to 
themselves. And that is my speech ! 

It is a credit to you, Frank, and I believe you have 
hit on the best solution, if there was only time.’’^ 

There is time, mother ! First, wee’ll get the tree — a 
^blue berry tree.’ Then, we’ll hang it all over with 
candles, — we can get them over at Brighton ; apples, 
oranges, sticks of candy, nuts, bags of sweets and sours, 
cakes with holes in them and with little white dogs on them, 
and then tliose lovely cards we have. We have Christmas 
cards, Easter cards, advertisement cards, birthday cards, 
and some pious pictures. We will put them everywhere, 
and the great angel with the trumpet on top, Helena’s 
creche under the tree on the moss, and my Holy Highton 
the wall beside the tree. It will look lovely — I can see it 
now — and it shall have this further merit. Every one 
who comes to look at it shall take something off it with 
his own hand. It shall stand until New Year’s Eve, 
and they shall pluck of its fruit as many times as they 
visit it — for we can fill up the gaps between visits.” 

There was a clapping of eager hands, and one universal 
assent. 

think I see it, too!” cried Miss Hilson, ‘^and I 
know it will be beautiful. It cannot help it, for there is 
nothing brighter and more fascinating than Christmas 
cards at Christmas time. They can never go out of 
fashion for me, for their color, their delicacy, their grace 
have always seemed worthy a longer life than the mere 
glance most people give them. I have some, too.” 

But yours are memories, Miss Hilson,” said Mill}^ 
and we have not any memories yet. Don’t bring us yours 


135 


A Dull Christinas for Some People. 

to use, but bring them to me to look at with you. I have 
come far enough to love other people’s memories.” 

Frank had already brought down a great box of cards, 
which, she explained, she and Helena had brought from 
home to cover a screen — a plan they had long had, but 
could not find time for at Roseburn. 

‘MVe thought there would be nothing to do here, and 
we should have to put in time all sorts of ways. But I 
never have a spare moment, I give you my word. There 
is so much that is real here it pushes all the make-believes 
and put-ins out of sight. But, after all, we brought these 
for something real, it seems. Real pleasure to the little 
ones, you know.” 

Mrs. Marsden looked silently and tenderly upon her 
girls. They were ^^real,” she thought. Little things 
could be made to serve their purpose gleefully, and they 
passed easily over many disappointments, going peacefully 
and blithely forward, because they knew something of the 
higher things intended to claim their thoughts. They 
were getting farther and farther away from the infinitely 
little ” with each day of their simple, natural home-life 
by the sea. 


CHAPTER XVT. 


CHRISTMAS IKBEED ! 

The day was perfect. Early — very early — while it was 
yet dark and cold and still as the grave, the Marsdens 
were off to Mass, hut, as ever, the walk on Christmas 
morning was no hardship, and the little church, fragrant, 
glowing, and so peaceful, was a haven of refuge from the 
night and its chill. There was quite a large congrega- 
tion, for Milly and the children, approaching the subject 
together as outsiders — with a difference — had openly 
discussed tlie reason for Christmas, and her regrets at not 
being able to go to early church ’’ had kindled in the 
sympathetic little people’s hearts a desire to go, since 
they could. Gradually, too, a good many Catholics had 
crept out from the veil of uncertainty under which they 
had hidden. Xot a few of the Point settlers had been 
Catholics fo’ de wall” and had left it as a whispered 
legend to their children. The lights on this morning 
shone on more than a sprinkling of dark faces, eager and 
curious, but reverent. The Marsden party were a long 
time in church, staying for all three Masses, and they 
walked home in the pure glow of a sunrise that blessed 
the earth undimmed. 

And there was the Christmas tree ! It was unique and 
136 


Christmas Indeed I 


137 


beautiful, and the whole house was spicy and odorous 
from it and its attendant garlands and pine branches. 
The Holy Night hung on one wall of the angle in which 
it was placed, and on the other. Miss Hilson had hung a 
large copy of the Sistine Madonna, her gift to the house- 
hold. The great white- winged angel with a silver trumpet 
which always accompanied the girls in their home, where- 
ever it might be, since it came to them one Christmas 
from over the seas — it was a pasteboard angel, exquisitely 
painted and of lovely face — was hung on the very topmost 
spray, and a perfect avalanche of the cards Frank had 
suggested fell from its feet to the lower boughs. Tlie 
tree was large, and covered with the beautiful little round 
blue berries, shining like some new jewels in the light of 
the tiny candles which Albert had lighted to greet them 
on the homecoming. Fruit, nuts, candies, yards and 
yards of ribbons cut into lengths that might easily be 
taken off and borne away as a Christmas token just as 
they pleased the little maids who were to come within 
their toils, and tiny bags and bags of marbles and nails 
and tacks and screws for any boy who liked were scat- 
tered here and there. 

know they will like nails and screws, and all tliose 
things, for we never go out that I do notoverhear bargain- 
ing and buying and wishing and longing going on among 
the boys for those very things,'' said Milly, when they 
laughed at her commissions the day before on Albert's last 
trip to Brighton. And I don't see why I should not give 
them any luxury they crave, whether it is of iron or gold. 
Either metal will be Christmas-like, if the will goes with 
it." 


138 


Christmas Indeed ! 


Then she had made all the little bags and put a dime 
in the bottom of each to come out as a surprise. 

It does not matter how they go,” she said, ^^for every 
fellow will be bargaining and exchanging almost before 
they leave the room, and before night they will probably go 
the rounds. But I know the children now, and those who are 
shrewd and gain all, will be generous and share all. That’s 
the way they do, and I encourage them in it. The shrewd 
ones all over the world will get the best away from the others 
and take better care of it, but it does not turn out worse for 
either party, if only kindly generosity goes hand in hand 
with the successful ones.” 

There you go, Milly ! ” said Frank ; you are getting 
to tack a moral on to everything. You did not use to, but 
I don’t care, for it makes you talk more than you used to, 
and you were much too quiet.” 

Oh, I don’t want to go about with a string of morals ! 
How horrid ! But it comes of having to think out things 
to fill up the time. I am so afraid of getting tired and 
cross.” 

Cross, Milly ! No one else ever thinks of such a thing, 
I can tell you.” 

^‘No one in this house ever gets cross except Albert, the 
Right Hand,” said Frank. “ Here becomes now in a tow- 
ering rage, gesticulating and mouthing like an actor. 
Mother, open the window and ask him what ails him, just 
to see the change. ” 

Albert, what is it ? ” called Mrs. Marsden, doing as 
she was bidden in a spirit of mischief. Has anything 
happened to the horse ? ” 

In one instant Albert’s face was on a broad grin. 


Christmas Indeed! 


139 


No, ma’am. Mis’ Marsden. Dar hain’t notin’ de matter. 
I’se dess projeckin’ and speculatin’. I bin an’ dun ebery 
las’ ting dess so.” 

Which was all true. Albert was a capital messenger 
and could substitute what he could get for what he could 
not get most satisfactorily. The girls crowded around 
his packages, to add another story to his innocent conceit 
in his own powers by their satisfaction and their praises. 

And now, here on Christmas morning, their completed 
task of love and duty — the duty of ministering to others’ 
happiness — made bright and lovely their own home in a 
strange land. Milly was sitting before it with a happy 
countenance, and the others greeted her admiration min- 
gling with their good wishes. 

God makes the features, but men make their own 
countenances, ” thought Mrs. Marsden, with a dim remem- 
brance of the words and a perfect recollection of the sense 
in which Cardinal Manning has clothed a truth. Neither 
of my three girls are 'professional beauties,’ but the three 
sweet faces grow finer each day. Milly’s eyes are lovely, 
but it is the beautiful soul looking through them which 
makes them so : she grows upward all the time, chained 
as she is. Come to breakfast, you children ! Your com- 
pany will come before you are ready for them just as they 
used to in the ' good old times ’ I hear you talk of. Is it a 
happy Christmas, Milly dear ? ” 

" Oh, indeed, it is ! I have quite forgotten there ever 
was any other kind outside, because it is all right within.” 

Albert, again, was the good fairy of the banquet, for he 
had placed the gifts entrusted to him by Mrs. Marsden 
around each plate and on the chairs before them. These 


140 


Christmas Indeed ! 


were altogether unexpected, for they had been carefully 
secreted until the last moment, and as each girl had had 
a Christmas letter with a check and had already written 
and sent a letter of Christmas wishes and thanks to her 
father, they felt that their share was prematurely disposed 
of before the Holy Day. But friends and relatives had 
remembered that no place on earth lies without the pale 
of Christmas Day, and beautiful, useful, dainty things had 
come in, besides a great box from South America a month 
before, which Mr. Folsom had carefully guarded and Mrs. 
Marsden and Albert had unpacked in his store-room. 
Breakfast grew cold before they thought of it, and the pat- 
ter of little feet on the porch roused the party from their 
delightful chatter before it was fairly at an end. 

Annie Mertoii and Mander — what is that child’s last 
name ? — and Em’ly Donny,” announced Helena from her 
seat near the window. “ And there comes one of the 
T’inters,’ as they say.” 

Frank stood for a moment, and made the sign of the 
cross reverently. do so want it all to go off right 
and give them pleasure,” she said as she caught her 
mother’s eye. 

I think it will, dear,” was the quiet answer with a 
gentle smile of confidence, and Frank followed the other 
two, Helena pushing Milly’s chair, to the meeting with 
their first guests. 

Everything certainly did ‘^go off right.” It was a 
whole day’s reception, for many of the children went 
home and brought their parents and the other children 
to see and to hear and to feast. Helena played for them 
and Frank sang, Mrs. Marsden and Milly entertained 


Chr istinas In deed ! 


141 


and dispensed the trifles from the tree. The Donnys, 
straggling in with different parties, were particularly well 
cared for at the table, and each instalment carried some- 
thing home for Momma,” politely reluctant, at first, as 
any children from the homes of plenty. Yet Mrs. Her- 
bert, who came a second time with Leila — the second time 
to bring her husband — told Mrs. Marsden that she knew 
there was neither a crumb of bread, a drop of milk, nor 
a chip nor a coal for fire in their pretty little cottage until 
she and Mr. Folsom went in with a Christmas greeting 
and a little ^‘neighboring.” 

The Netterleys did not appear. Milly’s inquiries of the 
other children met with but vague replies. The cautious 
little Alissa did say that her “ Poppa,” was afraid “ they 
was up to no good,” and had gone away to keep out of 
trouble. But she ventured on no further remarks and 
silently received all questions with an unmoved face. 

The children did not say much that day. It was all too 
new and too unexpected. This great tree so wonderfully 
laden with fruit had grown up in a single night, for 
Annie and Leila had stopped there the day before and 
had seen nothing of it. But they gazed and gazed and 
wandered to and fro before it in a way that evinced their 
delight. It was after that, when they came day after day 
for six days to make its acquaintance, that they gave 
forth new views and original ideas upon each separate 
decoration, and left behind them in the memories of 
their entertainers a fund of wit arid wisdom, both quaint 
and pathetic. “Oh, what we should have lost if we had 
not had a Christmas tree!” exclaimed Helena, when it 
was over with and Albert had closed the door upon its 


142 


Oliristmas Indeed ! 


denuded boughs, swept up its fallen sprigs, and hung 
the Sistine Madonna in the place of honor at the head of 
the room. 

I take all the credit of that old-fashioned idea to my- 
self,” said Frank, and I made something new out of 
it, after all.” 

‘‘You simply returned to first principles,” said her 
mother, as do others who aim at originality. Years 
ago, when the first Christmas tree ever heard of in this 
part of the country — if not on this side the ocean — was 
set up for a party of children of whom I was one, it was 
very like yours. And every child, every caller at the house 
for the holiday time had a gift from that tree. The 
later Christmas trees, hung with gauze and paper dolls, 
colored glass balls and tinsel stars were sparkling and 
gaudy enough, but they were poor substitutes for the 
real thing. The ^ mustn’t touch ’ made them stiff and un- 
real and the reappearance year after year of the same 
pretty things that were never the children’s very own, 
spoiled them as pleasant memories. ^ To have and to 
hold,’ crowns a child’s pleasure.” 

Then these cliildren have been crowned kings and 
rulers, for they certainly made that tree their own. But 
how good they were about it ! No quarreling, no snatch- 
ing, no mean spirit of envy all the time. And positively, 
mother, the little Donnys began to fatten. Well, I am 
glad we were here to help even the Donnys ! I feel more 
like doing for my kind now that I have seen the effect 
of what I have tried to do. I like to come right down 
to the ^ touch and go ’ of Christian charity — ^ touch ’ the 
poor with your own life, I mean, and ‘ go ’ right off and 


Christmas Indeed! 


143 


do for them. Do you see, mother, I am catching Milly’s 
way of moralizing ? What do you think of it ? ” 

I think you had better go over and ask Miss Hilson 
what she thinks of it. You have been so busy and I have 
been so busy all the week that we have not cared half 
enough for her. I do not think she is well. She still 
worries over the loss of her box. But I think it was the 
chloroform and the shock which completely prostrated 
her for the time, at least. She ought not to live alone 
this winter.’’ 

Oh, bring her over here ! Do, mother, do ! May I 
ask her ? !May I coax her ? ” 

Oh, yes ! ” chorused Milly and Helena. 

Yes — yes, if you can ! ” said Mrs. Marsden, after a 
moment’s thought. ^^But, Frank — wait and I will go 
with you. I really think it would be a good thing and 
we will try to carry it through at once.” 

It was carried through, and before night Miss Hilson’s 
desk-table, writing-chair, and chief treasures were safely 
lodged in the room next Milly’s, the old servant was pack- 
ing for her departure next morning on a long-desired 
visit to her daughter, and Miss Hilson herself was sip- 
ping her tea in a^cozy circle, with no shrinking conscious- 
ness of a dark walk to her lonely home in the near future. 


CHAPTEE XVII. 


IK BLUE AKD WHITE. 

Miss Hilsok rejoiced in spirit when she awoke the 
next morning in the strange white bed, for a new face 
was put upon the world in the night. It was snowing 
fiercely, with that steady, swift downfall that looks to the 
stranger to snow as if it might never forget to fall. Such 
a thing had not happened in Gray Beach in the seven 
years she had lived there, and she could not but think 
while dressing of the many inconveniences she must have 
suffered in her cottage, where there was small provision 
for cold weather. Here it was all in order for storm or 
sun, and she was in it all. 

Albert reported at breakfast time that the morning train 
had gone through as usual, and Miss Hilson’s Mary had 
gone on it. But there would be no more trains from Gray 
Beach to Brighton-on-the-Sea until the storm abated. 
There had already fallen enough snow to make the journey 
difficult, for the high winds on the coast had swept the 
snow into deep, uncertain drifts, which lay chiefly in the 
way of the trains. 

Mrs. Marsden went away at once to inspect the kitchen 
stores, and prepare for any possible falling short. She 
had not much anxiety on that score, but Helena and 
Frank had really made great progress in the housekeep- 
ing, and she had graduafiy left more and more to them, 


hi Blue mid White, 


145 


so at this time she felt it very necessary to be her own 
guide ill the matter, as they could hardly have provided 
for unforeseen blockades. 

The girls and Miss Hilson stood near the windows and 
talked about it. It was colder and sterner-looking with 
the sea as a gray background than snow had ever seemed 
before. And the white, wide heavens were an unfamiliar 
canopy. 

‘‘ I don’t think I like it,” said Frank doubtfully. Do 
you suppose there will be sleighing ? ” 

I don’t suppose there is a sleigh or a sled or a pair of 
runners in the whole county. Where there is never any 
snow, why should people fill up corners in the barn and 
break their legs falling over such useless things as sleds 
or runners — not to mention more expensive things like 
sleighs that have to be covered and cared for or they fall 
to pieces. We had trouble enough with such things at 
Koseburn.” 

Ah, well, Helena, the outfit for sleighing down here 
will not be such as you were used to in Koseburn, but it 
will happen along here, all the same. I have seen this 
very quiet people meet several emergencies, and they do 
it very cleverly — very cleverly indeed.” 

And, sure enough, the milk-boy brought next morn- 
ing’s milk on a sleigh after twenty-four hours of the first 
snow he had ever seen. Two long poles from the woods, 
fastened together in an erratic but hold-fast ” manner, 
a store box secured to them, flat on the snow, an old horse 
harnessed between the poles before the box, the dinner- 
bell hung to the horse’s neck— and a jolly boy to officer 
the craft, steer it through billows of snow, and '' scud 

lO 


146 


In Blue and White, 


it through and over bare spots and sanded grass. For 
the winds had blown tremendously and the sand had 
poured in volumes over the marshes, and mingled with 
the snow. It was still snowing, and the ice was coming in 
on the waves of the rising tide and jailing up on the beach. 

A curious, awe-inspiring, nightmare sort of week fol- 
lowed. The weather broke the record for that part of the 
coast. The ice extended far out into the open water, and 
on the west. Great Bay lay vast and white and firm, a 
narrow channel which seemed to the eye scarcely a yard 
in width and of the deepest, most vivid blue when the sun 
shone, of the most intense black when the sky was clouded. 
The whole was depressing and saddening and strange as a 
foreign land. ^^It only needs two polar bears and a man 
with a spear and a shaggy coat like another bear on its 
hind legs, to go for a picture in a geography of the Arctic 
regions,’^ said Frank. For my part, I never wish to 
see snow or ice again. They are terribly desolate down 
here. And I used to think they were jolly at home — 
never could get enough of them ! ’’ 

Milly did not mind it. She had many a quiet hour in 
the very room with the others while they chatted, for she 
could draw her chair into the window recess, fold her 
silken down quilt around her — it was quite cold enough 
for such protection unless very near the fire — draw it over 
her head, and watch the beach and dream. But one thing 
disturbed her — the grind of the ice on the beach. It was 
piled now fully ten feet high, and as the tide rose and fell 
this rugged wall of crystal fretted on the sands with a 
heavy sullen roar and crash, thrilling the house with 
sickening throes. At night, when the lighthouse sent its 


In Blue and White. 


147 


weird radiance flashing across the ice mountains and valleys, 
it was no less awful. It seemed useless, too, for not a 
sign of life on the vast waste appeared for several days, 
and they concluded that no vessel of any kind would at- 
tempt to beat up the bay or down the channel, while any- 
thing outside of the ice would probably do its best to stay 
there. 

But on the sixth day Annie Merton — the children were 
about like the snow-birds, everywhere on the crust of the 
snow, and bringing all sorts of crumbs of knowledge as 
usual— ran in with an eager face. Poppa ” said there was 
a steamer coming down the channel from up the river, 
but she was stuck. She was just coming in sight and was 
drifting with the ice. 

Then she was off again, and all who could go were gather- 
ing wraps, and cloaks and boots and canes for a scramble to 
some spot from whence they could see her. Miss Hilson 
elected to keep Milly company at home, although Albert 
in his excitement begged Miss Milly to let him carry her 
to the top of the hotel porch, where the whole scene was 
visible. But she refused, the red flush on her cheek and 
the blaze in her bright young eyes alone telling of the 
youthful longing and regret at the deprivation. 

Miss Hilson noted both, and she lent herself to such in- 
teresting subjects and such vivacious descriptions that 
she made the hour delightful, and almost brought Milly to 
an unguarded reference to Tom Hetterley’s troubled for- 
tunes and mysterious disappearance, which effectually 
steadied her nerves into watchfulness and left her no room 
for regrets. The others came trooping in, chilled to the 
bone but enthusiastic. 


. 148 


In Blue and White, 


You ought to see her, Milly ! She doesn’t look any- 
thing like the size she is, and she is so helpless and for- 
lorn.” 

‘‘For all the world like a wounded — something. A liv- 
ing thing, you know, that you have to pity.” 

“ She is pretty well over on her side. It really looks 
dangerous, although I suppose the ice is solid enough for 
the men on her to come ashore.” 

“Oh, I wonder if there are any women ! Annie went 
to ask her father, but he moved off with the other men 
before she reached him. Oh, Milly, the coloring of earth 
and sky to-day is perfect. You never saw such blue and 
white ! It is dazzling.” 

“ Onr Lady’s earth,” said Helena, softly. “ Cold and 
cruel as the wind is, do you know that very blue and white 
seemed to me to speak of safety for all, and comfort and joy ? 
It is as though through all things her mantle is over us, 
and her supplicating eyes pleading for the homeless and 
the poor, and those in peril as they may be on that 
steamer. It is really not a blue and white day to pass 
carelessly or forget. It is a heavenly day, and I wish 
Milly could see it out under the sky.” 

Annie and Leila had come in with the home party, and 
now slipped noiselessly away as they often went and came. 
But, lo ! in a few minutes they were back with 
“Poppa” and “Grandfather,” and another strong and 
tall sailor who was “Grandfather’s” only surviving 
son. 

“ Now, Miss Helena, she can see it out under the sky ! 
Poppa and Uncle Sam here can carry her lady-a-London 
just as easy ! ” 


In Blue mid White. 


149 


And grandfather says you ought to see it. Miss Milly, 
’cause it only comes once in a lifetime.” 

That’s so, ladies. I never see it afore in my life, and- 
I have been here over sixty years. You’d better bundle 
up. Miss Milly, and take it while it comes. It’s a sight 
worth seeing.” 

There was a little demurring, for Milly was a plump 
little partridge ” now, but the kindness that prompted the 
offer, the pleasant, strong faces that smiled at her, and her 
own keen longing, carried the day. They took her up 
easily, and with grandfather to guide, with Annie and 
Leila as guards of honor, and with Helena and Frank as 
an escort, and Albert as a follower, they went forth again. 

Milly never forgot that sight. They carried her up a 
steep rampart of the now sand-strewn ice masses, and held 
her as long as she wished, turning her to this point of 
view and to that peculiarity worth noting, and calling at- 
tention in their seaman like way to the steamer’s position, 
her danger, her possibilities of a speedy release, and her 
probabilities of a long imprisonment. 

Then they bore her home in triumph, tlie richer for her 
life by the beauty they had added to that life by their 
strength of arm and their warmth of heart. 

She’s as good as gold ! ” said grandfather, after they 
had left her. And she gives our children every day 
what gold couldn’t buy ’em. She’s like a good elder sister 
to ’em, and they follow her like lambs.” 

‘‘That’s so,” emphasized “Poppa,” for he heard all 
Milly’s virtues day after day, and saw Annie growing up 
to them with loving appreciation. “ She gives us the 
best she has and no niistake.” 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 


OUT OF BONDAGE. 

Milly could not sleep that night. She had not been 
out of the house for several days, and she missed the open 
air in which she had almost lived for months, while the 
unexpected novelty of her short excursion had stirred her 
blood to racing speed by its chill and its new sensations. 
She tried to lie perfectly still, but, at last, she had to 
awaken Helena and beg to get into her chair and have the 
lamp turned high for reading. 

I have tried my best, but indeed, it gets worse and 
worse. I hear noises and I see sights. It’s too bad, Hel- 
ena, but it is only the second time since we came down. 
I hope you won't mind ! ” 

Oh, Milly dear, you ought to know I don’t mind. 
Let me start this fire a little, and tuck you up comfort- 
ably, and put your books where you can reach them, and 
in five minutes I shall be sound asleep again.” 

In five minutes or very little more time, Milly was as 
much alone as ever, for Helena was indeed asleep as soon 
as her head touched the pillow. But it was quite a dif- 
ferent thing in the wheeled chair, where a touch could send 
her to the window, or incline the back at any angle. She 
had several new books, too, and she was soon quite easy 
and ready to scold herself for the nervousness that had 
found the night so long and almost horrible. 

The moon was up to-night, and the light on sea and 
150 


151 


Out of Bondage, 

land was white as daylight. The steamer had moved a little 
with the ice, and lay within sight of her window, but far 
off and shadowy. She seemed to have turned a little, and 
stood upright instead of on her side as she had appeared the 
day before. This was one of the changes they had foretold 
for her, and they had assured her she was not in danger. 
But, oh ! how cold it looked ! 

She sat there a long time, watching it and thinking of 
all she had heard of ice-bound ships, of her father so far 
from her, and while in a southern clime, nearer the awful 
untracked wilderness of the Antarctic than anyone she had 
ever known before he went there. The forests of Brazil 
and the icebergs of the Antarctic, the fires of Hecla and her 
own scented lilies which she must protect to-morrow, the 
polar bears and Albert in a skin coat, — these and more fan- 
cies were chasing each other through her brain when she 
suddenly awoke from a half slumber before the window as 
she had awakened at Bay Bluff. Of course, it was that 
which recalled Tom Netterley instantly to her mind, and 
she seemed to see him coming rapidly to her over the ice 
hummocks as if running at full speed. 

But there was some one on the ice, surely. Something 
black and living, slipping and falling as* she could see in 
the bright moonlight, up again and struggling on, falling 
and not reappearing, then, in sight and nearer. Who or 
what could it be ? It must be some one from the steamer, 
and he must need help. Oh, what could she do ? 

Helena ! Helena ! Wake up and come here, wonT 
you ? There is something the matter somewhere ! There 
is a man on the ice ! Indeed, there is ! 

Does he want me ? ” gasped Helena, trying to wake 


15 ^ 


Out of Bondage. 

up. Hadn’t Albert better go ? Why, what did you say ? 
Are you sick ? Do you want ice ? ” 

‘^No, no — not I at all ! There’s a man — see him run! 
He is ashore now — he is coming here I Oh, call your 
mother — she will know.” 

Whoever it was had indeed reached the shore and was 
coming very waveringly and unsteadily up the partially 
broken avenue from the beach to the side of their house. 
The snow was most uncertain walking, and he seemed 
lame or hurt, and, to add to their fright, as soon as he 
rose against the spotless white of the snow, a sharp report 
broke on the frosty night, and a little puff of flame issued 
from the dark side of the steamer. 

Oh, what was that for I Who can it be ! Helena, do 
call your mother ! ” 

Milly was trembling in every flber. All the impossible 
and unheard-of things in the world rushed upon her with- 
out rhyme or reason. Pirates, escaping slaves, a fleeing 
murderer caught in time — what and who was it flying 
desperately to Ocean Cottage ? And dare Ocean Cottage 
take him in ? 

Helena ran into her mother’s room, but Milly sat with 
clasped hands and dilated eyes. The man or boy, for he 
was slight and tall like a boy as she could easily see now — 
pushed steadily on the little distance left, and came close 
under her window. There he stopped, and through the 
glass she heard him say, feebly and shrilly, holding out 
his hands and looking up at her : 

Miss Milly ! let me in for pity’s sake ! Oh I let me 
in, please.” 

‘‘It’s Tom Netterley ! ” she cried, sweeping away from 


153 


Out of Bondage, 

the window on her wheels and driving the chair into the 
hall. Oh, Mrs. Marsden — Frank — Albert — somebody 
open the door and let him in ! ” 

The next moment they issued from the door in a group 
and helped the almost exhausted boy into the hall. 

‘‘He is safe, Milly,^^ called Mrs. Marsden, “and you 
shall hear all about it as soon as possible. There is noth- 
ing the matter with him but fatigue. We will take care 
ofhim.’^ 

Milly immediately “took herself in hand,” and shut the 
door between her and the interesting bustle she could not 
share. But the questions she asked and could not answer 
were more than she could count when she reflected. 

Tom, in the meanwhile, was telling a very straight story, 
and showing a good deal of manly straightforwardness. 
The struggle through the rough and rather dangerous ice 
hummocks had strained and tired him, but his had not 
been an easy life and he was toughened. 

“I’m all right now, thank you, ma’am,” he said, when 
the fire and the cordial and the comfortable seat had given 
him breath and started the blood to coursing comfortably 
through his veins instead of racing and throbbing as it had 
done. “ You see, there’s nothing to be afraid of now I 
am once fairly among people. They didn’t intend to let 
me off, but they’ll make no fuss now.” 

He addressed his remarks to Mrs. Marsden, as if with a 
thorough understanding between them, and she accepted 
the position. 

“ Your father ? ” she asked in a low voice, as the others 
moved about in the confusion of such a sudden and un- 
expected midnight raid upon their quiet. 


154 


Out of Bondage, 

“Dead!’’ he answered in the same tone. “Three 
weeks ago. He never got over the moving, but I was with 
him and he was comfortable at the last.” 

“ Did you really come from the steamer ? ” asked 
Frank. “ Is it in danger ? ” 

“No, it’s moving down the channel, and has righted 
itself. Pretty tight fix, but they’re not afraid. It was a 
chance for me, though, and I knew it would be the only 
one in this country. And I didn’t want to go to an- 
other.” 

Mrs. Marsden saw the girls look at each other in blank 
astonishment, as if doubtful of his sanity. 

“ Miss Aveling kept your secret,” she said, “and you 
will have to tell your story from the very beginning — or, as 
much as you can tell. But not to-night. A good sleep 
will do you good, and you must feel that you are safe in 
Gray Beach. Will you have anything to eat ? Or any- 
thing we can get, in fact ? ” 

No, he was not hungry, and he wanted nothing. No 
use of going to any trouble, for he would just lie down on 
the fioor there, and be “ all right ” in a minute. 

“ She don’t know anything much about the children, 
I reckon ? ” he said wistfully as they were leaving, and 
he looked to Mrs. Marsden for an answer. 

“ Not much, except that they have been well and run- 
ning about as usual. You know we have had very curious 
weather for Gray Beach, and have not seen as much of 
each other as usual since the snow-storm came.” 

He brightened a little even at that, and they left him 
smiling on his improvised pillow, with the firelight and 
the home coziness around him. 


155 


Out of Bondage, 

There is something most attractive in that boy’s face,” 
said Mrs. Marsden as she repeated what he had said to 
Milly, and I cannot but feel his ambition will result in 
better things for him, at least. What a lonely, sad life he 
has had ! You feel it when you see him.” 

I am so glad he is here once more ! ” exclaimed Milly. 

I am sure he will have a story to tell. I hope he will tell 
it to Father Morgan, and then he can be helped in real 
earnest.” 

‘‘ Well, we have only to wait for the morning. Now go 
to sleep if you can. But Helena can arrange you much 
more comfortably than I can, and here she is, ready for 
bed.” 

I was only telling Miss Hilson what the noise meant. 
It had wakened her. She thought of her box the first 
thing. I had forgotten all about it. But, as she says, it 
wasn’t Tom Netterley took it or he would never have come 
back when he had such a chance to get off.” 

“ No, indeed ! Good night, both of you, and don’t 
talk. You might wake others, and it will certainly excite 
Milly.” 

They obeyed. But after a silence of several minutes, 
Milly softly broke it : 

‘‘Are you asleep, Helena ?” 

“ No, nor sleepy. I had a complete waking up that 
time.” 

“I must tell you something, and then I shall be as 
still as your mother could wish. While you were all down- 
stairs, I moved my right foot.” 

“ Oh, Milly ! ” 

Helena sat up immediately, wondering and delighted. 


156 


Out of Bondage, 

Yes, I really did. I did not mean to do it — did not 
think of it, but I was so anxious and it seemed so hard not 
to be where you all were, hearing and seeing, and the first 
thing I knew, I lifted it as if 1 was going to step off the 
foot-board. But I cannot do it again.’’ 

Oh, but you will ! That means so much, Milly. It 
means that the power is there. It has only to come back 
as it went.” 

Well, it does prove that I am really better. I begin 
to have a little, little bit of hope, Helena. But I must try 
not to think of it. It must be ” 

As God wills,” she had almost said. But Milly had a 
reverent shyness that kept her silent on such thoughts. 
Helena understood her, though. 

After all, the girls soon slept and slept late. They were 
not down to the breakfast the others made quite lively 
for Tom, and at which he told his story. But they heard 
it all afterwards, when he had gone to look up his brothers, 
and make known to the village that he was back among 
them. He spoke naturally and cheerfully of making this 
announcement, but it was evident he shrank from it. A 
word or two made known the wound of their suspicions as 
to MissHilson’s box. Mrs. Marsden went with him to the 
door alone. 

Tom, if I were you, I would go first to Father Mor- 
gan. You sent him a message by Miss Aveling, and he 
responded to it as soon as he could — in less than twenty- 
four hours. He was too late, but it was not his fault. 
Go to him and find a friend. He may be of the greatest 
help to you, and if he can, he will.” 

Tom stood a moment. 


157 


Out of Bondage. 

I know you’re right,” he said, decidedly. ^^111 go.” 

Mrs. Marsden turned back to the dining-room, and found 
the two sleepers just arrived, full of eager curiosity. 
Frank could enlighten them. 

He says you know all about his going away, Milly — 
that he saw you the day you and Helena went for the blue 
berry tree up at Bay Bluff. You kept his secret well, I’m 
sure, through all that fuss ubout him.” 

‘‘I had to keep it,” said Milly, promised I would 
tell Father Morgan first, and then tell only the ones he 
thought best. And Father Morgan said to tell your mother. 
But it was very hard not to tell Miss Hilson. I knew she 
would be glad to hear from poor Tom, and she would be- 
lieve he did not take the box.” 

Indeed, I should ! ” said Miss Hilson, who was an in- 
terested listener, finding the life at Ocean Cottage very 
different from that of the Stormy Petrel’s Nest, and as 
agreeable in its way. But we quite forgot to connect 
him with the box while listening to him this morning. I 
think he forgot it, too.” 

No,” said Frank, he did not forget. I could see that 
several times. But he waited to have something more to 
tell, I think.” 

And are you going to keep us waiting until then to 
hear what he did tell.” 

I am only paying you up for your stinginess towards 
us, Miss Milly. To think you had an adventure and 
cheated us out of the fun ! ” 

You don’t owe me anything,” said Helena. "" I am 
sure I was right there and missed it.” 

So you were. You deserve to hear all at once, and 


158 


Out of Bondage, 

Milly need not shut her ears tliis time. Tom tells a very 
good story, don’t he, Miss Hilson ? ” 

Miss Hilson assented, and between them she and Frank 
re-told it. 

The alarm had come to the house at Bay Bluff the very 
evening Milly had seen Tom, some of the gang hearing 
in a country store somewhere in the neighborhood that 

Gray Beach intended to clean out that place the next day.” 
Everything was hurriedly .put in order for flight, and 
although he entreated them to leave him, for he would 
be better in jail than out of it, they made Tom's father 
go with them, and Tom, as a matter of course, would not 
have left him if they would have permitted it. They 
wrapped the sick man in all the wraps they could muster, 
and put him as carefully as possible into one of the boats, 
put a lot of stuff from the cellar and stable into the other 
boat, and left, at daydawn, for up the river.” Familiar 
with every foot of the way, and with some sort of link every- 
where with the outlaw class that may be found in twos or 
threes everywhere, they luid slowly made their way to the 
city and into a liiding-place in its heart. There his father 
had been worse than ever and had died about three weeks 
before. After his death, the gang had fastened at once on 
Tom, and given him to understand he could not leave 
them until they were ready to part with him. They had 
treated him fairly well, but he had been a prisoner in effect, 
and, Anally, had been taken on board the steamer in 
ignorance of his destination. Once well down the river 
— a slow passage being forced upon them by the ice in 
the river — they had told him frankly that they were off 
on a cruise of their own, having obtained the vessel and 


159 


Out of Bondage, 

meaning to keep it until they had made their fortunes. 
The first place they made port he was welcome to leave 
them, if he would swear to keep his mouth shut.’’ 
Bringing him with them was only a precaution, as he 
was too white-livered a coward,” they knew, to ever be 
one of them. 

I agreed to that,” said Tom, and they let me alone 
after that. The weather got worse and worse, and we 
found we couldn’t get out, and there was some talk of 
giving the old boat — she wasn’t worth much to begin with, 
and the ice didn’t improve matters — the slip, but they 
have a good deal of stuff on board of her. I just watched 
my chance, though, and last night when the tide turned 
and the wind fell, I knew the break-up would come, and 
1 left. It was a tough walk, but I made it. I steered 
for the light in the window, but I didn’t expect to see 
her there the first thing. But it gave me courage. I 
knew she’d help me, for I have heard enough of her 
to be sure of that. I was not afraid, but I was used up, 
and The Point was too far off. Any of the folks would 
have taken me in, even if they had to send for the con- 
stable for me next morning. They’re all real good down 
here. But I am glad it happened just as it did, and I am 
more than thankful to you for what you have done for me.” 

^‘That’s his story,” said Frank, ^‘and he did thank 
mother very nicely. He said he must be off to the boys, 
and he didn’t suppose they would be very glad to see him ; 
they never liked him to interfere with them, and he always 
had to keep them out of mischief. But we didn’t dare 
tell him the truth about them. Albert, have you seen the 
Netterleys anywhere ? Are they still away ? ” 


160 


Out of Bondage, 

‘‘ Fur all I know, dey is, Miss Frank. Mr. Folsom, he 
say he bet dey down yander or up yander at dat ole Bay 
Bluff house, kinder sto^m stayed. Dey dess like nothin’ 
better dan some sich foolishness, an’ dat Fred, he order 
’em roun’ heap wuss dan Torm eber dun. Fred Netterley, 
he mos’ a scand’lous ornery feller.” 

Well, Albert, you used to be rather severe on Tom. 
Perhaps you had better give Fred a little more grace,” 
said Mrs. Marsden as they separated for the usual morning 
tasks. 

Milly rolled her chair into the window. She was think- 
ing of the night before when she moved her foot. The 
thrill of astonishment and awe that she felt at first she 
could not forget. She did not think of it at the time, 
but an instant afterwards it flashed upon her. She tried 
again, but in vain. She was trying all the time, in fact, 
without result. Bat hope was there. 

Out of bondage ! ” she whispered as if to cheer her- 
self with the sound. It would be that indeed. But 
Tom’s bondage was worse than mine, and he waited and 
watched for freedom. Why, girls, the steamer is gone !” 

Sure enough, she was steaming away almost out of 
sight where the blue waters widened to the horizon. 

Thank God ! ’’said Mrs. Marsden. That poor fellow 
is out of bondage ! ” 

The words fell on Milly’s ears like a good omen. At any 
rate, it was not wrong to hope. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


LOST. 

When" Tom Netterley turned away from Mrs. Marsden, 
and started up the street, it seemed to him that no greater 
change had ever taken place in a boy’s life or in a boy 
himself than that which had come to him since he was 
last in Gray Beach. He looked around him to see if it 
was possible to bring back the old feeling, but the very 
fields and trees which he had known for so long looked so 
different in the winter dress, that they seemed to have 
moved from their old places and stood differently under 
the winter sun. Then, too, the errand he was on — going 
to visit the priest. Many a time he had watched the good 
man pacing to and fro on his sunny porch, book in hand, 
and half wished he dare go to him and ask what lie ought 
to do in some boyish perplexity under the weight of cares 
and duties that were too much for a boy. But it had 
never occurred to him that the day would come when 
Tom Xetterley would walk bravely up to the stranger, 
with a story to tell such as his, and the confidence in the 
priest and in himself that comforted him with the thought 
of a successful future. And, now, that time had arrived, 
and it seemed not at all a strange proceeding. 

Tom had learned a great deal in the three months he 
had spent away from Gray Beach, He had seen a good 
n 161 


162 


Lost. 


deal of life that he did not like and that he watched 
with the firm intention of taking warning and avoiding 
everything which belonged to it, but he had also seen that 
there were more people in the world than he had ever con- 
ceived possible, and that they were not all either poor and 
rudely brought up, or rich and lazy and foolish as he had 
always thought the summer guests. The narrow round 
of a man’s existence at Gray Beach had once been all he 
knew. That ignorance was gone forever, and he could 
never again be content with it. He now believed that the 
way was open for all the Netterleys to work their way up, 
and he would go again as soon as he could, but the others 
should go with him. It would be hard work, but they 
should try it, at all events. lie would push them out of 
the wretched home nest — how wretched he knew now — 
and they should scratch for themselves,” as he crossed a 
place in the snow where crumbs had been tossed from a 
friendly door to the little birds whose tiny tracks sug- 
gested this thought. 

The paths around the priest’s cottage were all swept 
clean, and he was on the porch in the sun, walking to and 
fro, as Tom remembered to have seen him so often, but 
without his book. He stoj^iDed as Tom lifted the latch of 
the gate, and waited with kindly welcome in his eye at 
the low step. Tom mentioned his name, and then the 
welcome extended to lip and hand. He was led into the 
simple, cheerful room, and told his story with all the help 
of interested question and sympathetic comment. 

Tom was so direct a fellow that it did not take long. 
His father’s death, the principal events of the time he 
passed as a carefully watched ward ” of his father’s as- 


Lost, 


163 


sociates, the trip down the river and the bay, and his escape, 
were all naturally told as well as his wishes and purposes 
now. Father Morgan approved of these, and readily prom- 
ised to help him, for Tom asked little help — he only 
wanted to find if his plans looked possible or sensible to 
another, older, wiser, and more experienced than any one 
with whom he had ever talked. 

I am very much obliged to you,^’ he said at the end of 
an hour, as he rose to leave, and I shall do as you advise. 
I shall find the boys, and talk to them, and see what choice 
they make, and then tell the people who have helped us be- 
fore this. There shall be no sneaking away this time. I’m 
sorry I went off that way before, but it seemed it was the 
only way then. And if I hadn’t, I would not have found 
father. I don’t think,” he said, pausing and looking 
earnestly into Father Morgan’s face, “ that I had better 
tell them about father now.” 

^^No ! ” said Father Morgan, quickly. ^^No, not now. 
But when they are older, and things are different with 
you and with them, tell them then, my boy. Let them 
know it all, with its bitter lessons and its showing of the 
leading of the hand of Almighty God. You were certainly 
•brought to him in his hour of need, and sad as was his 
end, it had all the solace possible to him in the presence of 
a good son. But, as you say, I would not tell them now.” 

Father Morgan stood at the door watching the boy as 
he went down the path through the woods that took him 
home without passing through the village. If they 
have any of his nature in them, they will see more than 
that in the history of their father’s last days — they will 
see an example of unselfish devotion to duty that many a 


164 


Lost, 


man better taught and trained than that poor fellow has 
never thought of in far less cruel trials. He is a fine 
fellow, and I think he’ll do well now. I think it can be 
managed to interest those who can push a deserving and 
ambitious boy even better than a j)oor old country priest, 
with all the good wishes in the world.” 

Meanwhile, Tom had hurried along the softened path — 
for the cold was much moderated and the snow was melt- 
ing fast — with a confused idea of what would occur when 
he found the boys. He was not in the least prepared for 
what was really the end of his rapid walk — a deserted 
home and utter disappointment. At first, he thought 
they were out as usual, and had left the house as they had 
always done without fear of a visitor during their absence. 
But when he found that the door would not open, and 
when a search in all possible hiding-places did not reveal 
the rusty key so seldom used “ in the old times,” he began 
to notice other signs that this was no ordinary absence, 
and a sense of loneliness and desolation crept over him. 
AVhat could have happened ? For the first time, he real- 
ized that three months even at Gray Beach might work 
changes in other lives than his own. 

He turned, then, to the village, for he would not go to 
the nearest neighbors, the ^^P’inters.” More than one 
pair of little feet scurried indoors to tell Mommy” that 
Tom Netterley was home again, and more than one excited 
face peeped from behind the scanty curtains as he hurried 
by, but he looked neither to the right nor left until he 
opened the door of Mr. Folsom’s store and stepped in, 
where the usual party of winter loungers crowded around 
the stove. 


Lost, 


165 


All heads were turned towards him, for two young 
fellows of his own age who had been close to the glass 
doors of the store as he approached, had stepped back 
with the astonished exclamation : 

Here comes Torn Netterley ! ” 

Mr. Folsom was just coming from the room in the rear, 
and his was the only voice of greeting of any kind. 

Well, Tom Netterley, you are a stranger ! Never 
expected to set eyes on you again in Gray Beach. 

don’t know any reason why, Mr. Folsom. I left 
Gray Beach as many another fellow has left it — owing 
more than I could paj^ but willing to pay if I could ; and 
I have come back to it as some of them never come before 
I start in to earn a better living than 1 could make here. 
What I want to know is — where are the boys ?” 

Well, more than you don’t kno^y that. They’ve been 
gone since before Christmas. They left about as you did, 
all five of them.” 

Tom was thunderstruck. 

Mr. Folsom, you don’t mean that ! But somebody 
knows — don’t they ? ” turning to the grou]) around the 
stove. Jim Merton, you used to run with Fred. Didn’t 
you hear him say where he meant to go ?” 

Never heard him say nothing about it. I hadn’t 
much to do with Fred out of gunnin’ season.” 

No one else spoke,' and Tom began to feel the coldness 
of his reception, and the listlessness which spoke so plainly 
the wuthlessness” of the Netterleys in the eyes of the 
community. 

^^Well, this is rather an upset.” He tried to say it 
coolly, but his voice showed his feeling. I haven’t heard 


166 


Lost, 


from here since I left, but I expected they’d wait for me. 

They knew ” he paused. He could not say ‘‘they 

knew I would be hack,” for this departure proved that 
they had not that faith in him he had counted on. It was 
an unlucky break in his speech, for every one in the store 
filled it in his own fashion with words that confirmed their 
suspicion that Tom had gone off with Miss Hilson’s box, 
and that the others knew all about it. 

Some of the little boys had straggled in, scenting an ex- 
citement, and stood, with open eyes and mouths, gazing 
steadily into Tom’s face. 

Here, Donny ! You used to he about with them. 
Didn’t August and Louis tell you where they were 
going ? ” 

Donny hung his head and put his finger in his mouth. 
He was a very little boy, but one a size larger came in 
with : 

“Louis didn’t tell me nothin’, but he told Alissa some- 
thin’, and she told me.” 

“What was it ?” 

“She say he told her he was a-goin’ to live over3'an way 
towards Bay Bluff — that he was a-goin’ to have a new 
father an’ mother, an’ their name wasn’t Yetterley. She 
say he told her that one night, and the next mornin’ — 
why, he was gone.” 

“ When was that ?” 

But this was beyond the computation of the young man. 
It was some time before Christmas, and no date more defi- 
nite could be obtained from him. But comparison and 
calculation of an intricate nature led up to the conclusion 
among the elders that it must have been the last week 


Lost, 167 

before Christmas, or about the twenty-third or twenty- 
fourth of December. 

“Hello!’’ said a heavy-looking old man, who had 
listened as a stranger listens to all that is said. “How 
you’re talkin’ I I guess I kin tell somethin’ about that 
Louis fellow. He was about right, I guess. Ole man 
Dallas and his wife, over our way, they brought home a 
little fellow ’bout that time, ’stead of a little boy of their 
own. He was a sickly little chap — theirs was — and he 
died two, three year ago. Tliey’ve been a-wantin’ another 
ever since, and my wife was a-tellin’ me they got one. A 
little chap with real putty eyes and kinder red hair, she 
say. She see him over there when he come.” 

“That’s Louis 1” said Mr. Folsom. “Anybody seein’ 
Louis will see that red hair tlie first thing. He’d be a 
mighty putty boy if it wasn’t fur that.” 

“ Their boy had red hair,” quietly remarked the 
stranger. Tom had started up and drawn near to him. 

“ Where did you say they lived ? ” he asked eagerly. 

“ Over Bay Bluff way — over to Dallas’s farm. Anybody 
can tell you when you get to Hanstown on the Bay Bluff 
road.” 

“ Tom, you ain’t goin’ right off, are you ? You haven’t 
given us any account of yourself. Hold up, there I” 

But Tom had opened the door and started at a racing 
pace before Mr. Folsom finished. 

“ He ought to bin arrested,” said some one, reproach- 
fully. 

“ Then why didn’t you arrest him,” snapped some one 
else. 

“ Why, I didn’t think of it, else I would.” 


168 


Lost 


That's what I was thinkiii' when I hollered to him/' 
said Mr. Folsom, but he kept straight on a-goin’." 

And no wonder ! " commented the stranger, with 
something nearly a laugli. guess I'm 'bout thawed 
out now, and I'll be movin’. Good-day, friends ! ” 

He climbed into a rickety old wagon which stood at the 
door, and his old horse movea off, slowly at first, but soon 
warming to a good round trot. It was not long before he 
caught up w’ith Tom ar.d cordially invited him to ride. 
Tom asked him to stop for a minute at the priest’s house 
when they reached it, and he was little more than a min- 
ute telling what he had heard and what he hoped to 
find. Then, climbing up beside his good-natured ac- 
quaintance, he started for the third time in search of the 
boys. " 


CHAPTER XX. 


FOUND. 

The conversation during that drive was one-sided. 
Tom could not talk. He was anxious, of course, and 
there was such uncertainty attending the outcome of this 
expedition, for the red haired-boy might not be Louis. 
Then, too, he felt the reception he had met. The Mars- 
den family and their kindness, seconded by the cordial- 
ity of the stranger. Father Morgan, had put him into a 
new world and had caused him to forget the reasons his 
older neighbors had for less hopeful remembrance of the 
Tom Netterley who had left them. Now, all returned to 
him most depressingly, and he had to fight hard with 
himself to continue to hope. 

But it was a good thing for him that he was not al- 
lowed to sink back into the old life at all. Perhaps, if he 
had found them where he left them, he and the boys 
might have drifted into a waiting and enervating spirit 
very difficult, if not impossible, to shake off. As it was, 
in doubt and discouragement 'he had to struggle, and 
struggling will wake up the energies and kindle the spirit in 
any man not dying of old age or shame. 

The horse was a good traveler and he kept time to the 
chatter of his owner in such style that he had not quite 

exhausted all his round-about questions before they reached 

169 


170 


Found. 


the road leading into the home of Farmer Dallas, as he 
called his neighbor. Tom afterwards found out that this 
was because the neighbor was an Englishman, and had 
brought his title of Farmer” with him, using it in this 
country until he came to be known by it generally. He 
had been here now a good many years, and had gathered a 
great deal around his home, empty to him and his wife, how- 
ever, without the voices and footsteps of their children. 
The last of these was the little boy who had died two, 
three year ago,” and whose place they had given to some 
lonely child. Could it be his Louis ? Tom asked the 
question over and over as he walked down the long lane 
which led to the house from the main road to Bay Blutf 
and Brighton-on-the-Sea. 

The house was an old one, painted red, and with. a worn, 
crooked roof, but it looked very clean and pleasant, or, 
rather, homelike. There were many small buildings scat- 
tered irregularly around it, and a garden. At the end of 
the lane which continued beyond the house, Tom saw the 
waters of the bay, black and sullen against the white 
shore line and the deep blue winter sky. He knew he 
was not far from Bay Bluff, but he did not glance in that 
direction. One more visit he must make there, and he was 
sorry for it. He would have been glad never to see it again. 

A dog ran out at him with a shrill bark, but when he 
stopped and spoke, soon dropped its defiant manner, and 
crept to his feet, wriggling and twisting and wagging its 
tail in the most friendly manner. A woman opened the 
door and came out on the long porch, which had a corner 
enclosed with glass sashes, showing a mass of color and 
green leaves most cheerful and inviting. She spoke with 


Found. 171 

a soft English voice, and she had a sweet, sad face, that 
reminded Tom of his memory of his mother. 

He won’t hurt you, sir,” she said ; he’s nothing 
but a puppy, and he makes a sad lot of noise without 
meaning anything that is harmful. Be done, Rover ! Be 
done, I say ! Would you please to walk in ?” 

If it might only be Louis ! ” thought Tom. I could 
not do better than leave him here. This is a home for 
him, poor little fellow. He never had one since he was 
born.” 

By this time — you can think a great deal in a flasli of 
time — Tom had reached the porch, where the woman 
stood looking at him with kindly eyes. 

‘‘1 heard you had a strange little boy here,” said Tom. 

It is most likely all a mistake, but I am looking for my 
little brother, and I thought I would come to ask you.” 

It is not a mistake that we have a little boy here and 
that he was a stranger to us until a short while since. 
But — your little brother ? May I ask the name ?” 

His name is Louis IN'etterley. I am his brother Tom.” 

Yes, the little boy is Louis Yetterley. We thought 
we should call him by our own name — poor little fellow ! ” 

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked at Tom pity- 
ingly* 

Is there anything the matter ? Has he gone from 
here ?” asked Tom, quickly. 

‘^No, lad, no ! But he is very, very ill. I doubt the 
child took his sickness before he came to us, for he seems 
to have been sadly neglected. He has pneumonia now, 
and badly.” 

There was mild reproach in her look as she spoke of 


172 


Found, 


neglect, and Tom hastened to say that he had been away 
from home on business for three months and more, that 
Louis had always been his especial charge and that he 
would never have left him if he could have helped it. 
And then he stumbled in his speech for he suddenly re- 
membered that he did leave him, intentionally. 

‘‘ I came back yesterday,"' he said, and I heard only 
this morning of your adoption of a boy. If it had not been 
that a neighbor of yours was in the store at Gray Beach 
and heard me asking the children questions, I might have 
looked a long time for the little fellow. How did you 
come to get him ? " with a sudden thought of Fred and 
the others, whom he had forgotten in his anxiety for Louis. 

A young fellow, much about your age, came here one 
day, and asked my husband and me if it were true we wanted 
a little boy to keep us from loneliness without our own 
little son who died,’" she said. We told him it was true — 
that we had wanted it for some time. Then he told us he 
had a little brother, that he must go where he could get 
work for himself and two other brothers, but that he did 
not know what to do with the youngest and the one next 
him. He told us who he was, and said he would bring 
the little boys to see us. We chose the youngest, for he 
is like our own little son.” 

“ He told you a true enough story,” said Tom. It was 
to look for a better living for us I went away, but I did 
not think Fred Avould be driven to it before I got back. 
Well, I’m sure I am thankful Louis found such a home 
in his want of a caretaker. Let me see him, won’t you ? 
The little fellow has been like my own baby always.” 

The gentle mother-heart was in the look she gave the 


Found. 


173 


boy who was so old and so young at the same time. Then 
she led the way into the house and up-stairs to a warm, 
sunny room, where there was every comfort around the 
poor little sick boy. Tom scarcely recognized his baby 
in the thin, large-eyed, white-robed sufferer among the 
pillows. His hair had been cut short, and the tiny red- 
gold rings hardly rose above the white forehead. But he 
knew Tom, and a flitting gleam of glad surprise was the 
first greeting Tom had that was his very own. 

Oh, Tom ! ” the weak lips formed rather than uttered. 

He’s been a very sick boy,” said the woman, laying a 
tender hand on his head, ^^but he is better now. Please 
God, he shall be quite well again before the snow is all 
gone.” 

He smiled at her fondly, but closed his eyes again as 
though too weary to open them. Another woman who 
had been sitting at her sewing near him rose and went out. 

Tom watched her with a secret fear that Louis must 
be dying, and she was going to summon some one who 
ought to see him die — Mr. Dallas, he supposed. But, 
instead of this, she came in presently with a cup of steam- 
ing broth, which she put on the table near the bed, and 
began to prepare Louis to take it from a spoon, in very 
small mouthfuls, very carefully administered. 

John is down-stairs,” she said to Mrs. Dallas, as soon 
as she was fairly started on her good work, and Mrs. 
Dallas signed to Tom to follow her out of the room. She 
led the way down-stairs, and into the room where her 
husband was w^aiting for her. He asked first for the sick 
child, and then she told him who Tom was. Tom followed 
with as much of his story as he felt it right to tell a 


174 


Found, 


stranger who had not intimated in any way that he cared to 
hear it, or that he wished to help him in any way. Mr. 
Dallas knew more than his wile of their adopted boy’s 
past, for he had made all tlie inquiries possible, and had 
heard a great deal and met with many who pitied him and 
Mrs. Dallas for undertaking the task of bringing up ^^one 
of them fs'ctterleys.” But he had also heard a great deal of 
Tom’s care of the little ones, and of the weight of the whole 
family that had pressed lieavily on him. Indeed, it was 
what he had heard of Tom from the first that had inclined 
him to Fred’s proposition regarding the boys, for he 
believed Fred to be Tom and Fred did not undeceive him. 
Now that he saw the real Tom, he liked what he did see. 
Besides, they had had Louis with them now long enough 
to get acquainted with him, and to find out in his illness 
and its attendant nursing little traits and loving ways that 
attracted them to him. So, in the end. Torn was cor- 
dially invited to stay with them a day or two, until the 
change in Louis might be more decided. And Tom accepted 
the invitation, going at once into the sick-room, and re- 
lieving the others at the same time it relieved his own full 
heart to care for the only one left to him. 

Of the others, he could learn nothing. Mr. Dallas said 
that Fred brought the two younger boys there for Mrs. 
Dallas to see them, and that he went at once in the direction 
of Brighton, with some intimation of taking the train for 
the city that same day, as soon as she decided in favor of 
Louis. Louis had not fretted any for the brothers, nor 
spoken of them except when questioned, and had, in fact, 
been hir from well even then. Since his illness, they had 
been solely occupied with taking care of him. 


Found, 


175 


It makes us feel very much drawn to the boy,” he 
said, for we had a weary time of nursing our own boy in 
that room there. And now, it almost seems that it’s his 
face we see looking up at us from the pillows, as if he 
waited for us to help him all we could.” 

Long, long hours were those Tom sat beside the quiet 
bed, and thought after thought pressed close upon each 
other through his tired brain. Fred and August were 
evidently together, but no one had a word to say of Dan 
and Carroll, and Dan could never get on with Fred. Had 
they gone with him, or, as was far more likely from his 
knowledge of them, had they struck off on an independent 
venture ? All he could do was be thankful that he had 
found one, and that he was allowed to try to keep him a 
little longer. 

That day and niglit there was no change. Louis lay 
motionless and weary, apparently, taking what tliey gave 
him, and dropping off to sleep again the instant the spoon 
was returned to the cup. But the next morning, he 
awoke refreshed, and each time they spoke to him, the 
awaking was more perceptible and the improvement more 
encouraging. That night — the second night — in the mid- 
dle of it, Tom was giving him his broth when he whis- 
pered, softly, and as though he feared to be overheard : 

Did Dan tell you ? Did he come ? ” 

Tom thought he was dreaming or flighty,” but later 
on, there was something else about Dan, and again the 
next morning, so that gradually Tom began to hope that 
it was only waiting until Louis was able to speak ; then 
he would know all. 

And he did. The first opportunity Louis had to speak 


176 


Found. 


with him alone after he was really better, he told him 
that Dan and Carroll had hired out ” to different farmers 
not so very far away. It was Dan’s plan, and was in 
opposition to Fred’s, for he said he was sure Tom would 
come back looking for them, and he would not go out of 
the country until he did come. 

So he coaxed me and August to come here, and to 
stay here, and he promised he would come and see us. 
Fred said he was goin’ to leave us both here, but they 
wouldn’t keep August. It’s nice here.” He finished 
feebly. ‘^An’ Carroll, he went first.” 

It was a disjointed and unsatisfactory account, but Tom 
felt its value. He could wait in patience a little while 
longer, and then look up Dan and Carroll. His heart was 
lighter than he had ever known it, for there were evidences 
that his boys could do for themselves, after all. And 
he began to hope that Louis w'as provided for, and 
safe while he was fighting for him. These were good 
people, and they would do well by the little motherless 
child. 

Tom was fully occupied with caring for Louis for several 
days, but at last he felt at liberty to dispose of his time for 
part of a day, and he faced again the unpleasant task of 
visiting Bay Bluff. After dinner, he asked Mrs. Dallas if 
she “ would be able to sit with Louis that time in the day,” 
and she answered heartily that she was just about to ask 
him if he did not want to go out for the air, because she 
could take his place. She told him to go, and not to think 
of coming home until he was tired, for she had no doubt he 
could find enough to keep him out that long, if it was in 
the country, not near the village, 


Found. 


177 


It was about two o^clock when he paused on the top of a 
slight rise in the ground to deliberate which patli he would 
best take to reach Bay Bluff in the shortest time. He 
wanted to be well rid of his task before dark, and the 
afternoons were short. Having decided, and taken the 
lay of the land,^^ as they say at Gray Beach, he started 
across the country at a long running pace which carried 
him quickly over the ground. 

He found the house in much worse condition than when 
they left it. The whole country had turned out after 
that, and it had been searched, and searched so thoroughly 
that doors and window shutters had been carried off to 
stand the test of ax, and hammer, and fire, before they 
could be believed incapable of hiding a burglar or a tramp. 
At first, he feared his visit would be in vain and that he 
might be forever branded in some minds as the thief 
who stole Miss Hilson’s silver box. But a little later he 
was relieved. The cellar had only stood a nominal search. 
The wine cellar had been torn out, and the strong bars 
which had formed its partition from the outer cellar lay 
scattered all over the floors of the two compartments, but 
the large closet within it had not even had the lock 
forced. 

Tom took up one of the bars and applied himself 
lustily to the forcing process now. The lock was strong, 
but Tom was determined and the bar was heavy. Two or 
three hard blows, then a little prying and lifting, and it 
yielded. The door flew open. 

The sun was just near enough the horizon to send a 
broad ray of light through the window of the outer cellar 
in at the door of the closet. It was empty, and Tom for a 
12 


178 


Found, 


moment felt his heart sink. But he suddenly recalled a 
murmur he had heard and never understood — something 
about heavier than sand ” and no stone there ’’ and a 
pickax’ll do it — safe enough without one.” He picked 
up the bar he had cast aside and thrust it into the earth. 
The box was there. 

They had covered it hastily with a few inches of dirt, 
fearing that any day the house might be searched, and 
this, the biggest prize they had secured, be taken from 
them. But in their hurried flight they had forgotten it, or, 
rather, one having reminded the other of it and then been 
sent to some other task, each had supposed some one else 
was getting the box. After they had pushed off, and dared 
not risk returning, they had discovered that it had not 
been brought from the cellar, and quarreled then and 
often afterwards over the loss. It was during these 
quarrels Tom had heard enough to be sure that his sus- 
picions were correct and that the box was in the wine 
cellar closet. 

The light, dry earth lay easily over it, and he soon had 
it uncovered. It was rather an awkward size to carry, 
and he was not ready to start with it that day for the 
long walk to Gray Beach. He studied the problem 
awhile, and then concluded it would be best to leave it 
where it was, and in a day or so borrow something, if it 
was nothing more than a wheelbarrow, and carry it direct 
to Miss Hilson. 

It was almost dark and he was quite tired enough to go 
home when he had secured the closet door once more, 
and started off across the flelds to Louis. The little fellow 
was so much better and brighter that he welcomed his 


Found. 


179 


entrance into the room with a feeble attempt at a shout, 
and afterwards spent quite a merry quarter of an hour 
telling over the stories Mrs. Dallas had been telling him 
of the way boys were boys in her own dear land — a sea- 
coast village of England having been her native place. 

The next day Dan turned up. The news of Louis’ 
illness had reached him, and he had obtained leave to go 
to ask for him. He met Tom in his own stolid way, ques- 
tioned him neither as to the past nor the future, but said 
he was well and well satisfied — that work was no harder 
than some kinds of play, and that he was paid for the 
work and never had been paid for the play. Carroll was 
on a farm adjoining the one where he Avas, and had easier 
work and less of it. 

^^So he oughter,” he concluded. ‘^He ain’t as old as 
I am and he ain’t more’n half as big. But he’s a doin’ 
first-rate. You can go and see. Him and me have planned 
it all out. We’re going to work here till we get enough 
to buy a farm or a ranch or something like that. Then 
we’ll run it. You see if we don’t.” 

Tom, Avho had grown well acquainted with Mr. Dallas, 
told him that night of Dan’s talk, and laughed a little 
sadly at the plan. But Mr. Dallas said it was not a bad 
thing to get such an idea into the head of a boy. 

You see, it will balance him. AVhen the longing to own 
a tree and a field of turf is once put into a boy’s heart, 
lie’ll never rest until it’s satisfied. That’s human nature, 
and there is no other ambition better for him in the long 
run. It will fit in with any other he may grow into, for a 
man may be a priest or a scholar, a tradesman or a farmer, 
and a bit of land of his own will make him love his God 


180 


Found. 


and his country only that much the more, and give him 
standing ground on which to hold his own while he does 
his duty.’^ 

I notice,’’ said Tom after a little, that you said 
priest and that you put him first. Are you a Catholic ?” 

I am,” said the farmer proudl}^ 

^^Well, I hoped you were, but I did not know. If you 
are so kind to Louis as to wish to keep him, I shall be glad 
and thankful to leave him in Catholic hands. He ought 
to be a Catholic. Our people used to be — always were, 
but my father lost it.” 

Then, my lad, his father’s fathers with their prayers, 
no doubt, have brought a chance of life eternal into the 
grasp of you and Louis, at least. You may be sure we 
shall look on it as a privilege of our own to try and bind 
him to it so that he may not cast away his faith nor lose it 
carelessly. Then you are willing to leave him with us ? ” 

To give him to you as your own. And may he indeed 
make up to you for the loss of the little son whose place 
you give him ! ” 

So Louis was provided for and Tom was rapidly ris- 
ing from the slough of hopelessness that had clogged him 
now and then all his life. 

The next day he borrowed a horse and cart of Mr. 
Dallas, and went over to Gray Beach to dismantle — if 
there was anything remaining — the old home. He drove 
round by Bay Bluff and put the box in the straw with 
which he had filled the cart and muffled his feet, for it 
was still cold when exposed to the open air as in driving 
a cart. 


CHAPTER XXL 


SILVEK Ai^DALL. 

But that was the end of the bitter weather. The sun 
came out with strength in every ray, and glory in every 
beam, and the snow melted away rapidly. The sands are 
never wet long, and in a few days it was hard to realize 
that such winter desolation had surrounded them. 

Tom Netterley had disappeared again. He had gone 
home and found it deserted, and after hurried inquiries 
and saying little of himself had gone off before the vil- 
lagers could collect their wits enough to secure him. Mrs. 
Marsden was beginning to feel anxious and disappointed 
when Father Morgan came down and told them that 
he had seen the boy, had heard his story, and was 
quite convinced of his sincerity and earnestness. He had 
gone directly to Father Morgan as he had promised, 
and had reappeared for a moment after he had been 
home. 

Tell them I will be back as soon as I find them or 
hear anything. They can’t be very far away, for they 
hadn’t money enough to travel by rail, and Louis was too 
small to walk. The folks have an idea they are at Bay 
Bluff, but I hardly think that. I shall go to see, the first 
thing.” 

Father Morgan had been in the city two days, and had 
181 


182 


Silver and All. 


brought the message on his return, finding Tom was 
still absent. Again there was nothing to do but wait. 

Moonlight nights were over, and darkness as absolute 
as it is at any time so near the sea, when Albert opened 
the door one night to a rapid, yet light stroke on its oak 
panels. The sound had reached the group in the library, 
and all were intent on the disclosure of its meaning when 
Albert ushered in with great ceremony and his most solemn 
dignity, Mr. Netterley fo’ de ladies.^’ 

It was Tom, careworn and weary looking, and bearing 
a small, strong box. Miss Hilson sprang forward with 
outstretched hands. 

Oh, my box ! she cried. Where did you get it ? ” 
Out at Bay Bluff, didn’t you ? ” cried Milly. 

He put it carefully at Miss Hilson’s feet and stood up 
with a sigh of relief. “ I never had such a burden on my 
mind before, and I hope I may never have another like it. 
There it is, Miss Hilson, and I think it is all right. I 
have never seen inside of it, but I don’t believe it has 
been opened since they carried it off. I found it just 
where I saw it hidden the night they came back with it. 
It was forgotten in the hurry of the flight.” 

Have you found the boys ? ” asked Mrs. Marsden, 
Yes, after a good bit of trouble, I found them — some 
of them. Louis is down with the pneumonia, poor little 
fellow ! Fred gave him to a good old couple up near 
Bay Bluff and I believe they mean to do right by him. 
Carroll and Dan have hired out and started for themselves. 
Spunky, wasn’t it ? Fred and August have gone — no 
one knows where, and my only comfort is that they will 
not starve. Fred is a sharp fellow and can do almost 


Silver and AIL 


183 


anything in the line of work. I found Louis first, and he 
told me as well as he could. I have been taking care of 
him, for the old people were glad to have help. I shall 
soon be a trained nurse, I think.'’’ 

It was rather a sickly smile with which he concluded. 

Miss Hilson had produced her keys and unlocked the 
box with nervous fingers. She lifted the inner cover as 
though she feared to look beneath it, but her eyes bright- 
ened and her face cleared in an instant. 

They are all here ! ” she cried. They have not been 
touched — not a single thing. Oh, Tom, you don’t know 
what you have done for me — my mother’s silver and my 
father’s war medals! ” 

He looked at her with softened eyes. He understood 
it better than she thought, for there was the memory of 
his own pretty, gentle, loving young mother always keep- 
ing him up to such standard of duty as his untrained and 
dimly groping conscience had set up for him. Miss Hil- 
son saw the softened glance and registered a vow to help 
Tom Netterley with more energy and earnestness than 
she had ever proposed to herself. 

But come and look at the wonderful box you have 
heard so much of this last few months. It is scarcely 
worth all the trouble it has made, but no woman wants 
to lose such things as these. They are really very old 
and very beautiful.” 

One by one she lifted them out of their soft nests and 
put them on the table near Milly for examination. A 
smaller box inclosed she handed to Tom. 

‘‘You will appreciate these,” she said. ‘^And, indeed, 
they are worth all other gold and silver to me.” 


184 


Silver and All. 


Tom threw back the cover and there lay a sparkling 
blaze oi medals and clasps with their glowing ribbons. 

“ My father was a soldier/’ said Miss Hilson, and he 
was neither neglected nor slighted by his country. Those 
are really valuable, and I should not keep them with me, 
/but I like to look at them. I love their beauty as well as 
their meaning. These other things are less to me except 
for association with my mother’s tea-parties at home.” 

They were old-fashioned, dainty little silver table serv- 
ice things of all sorts and of great age, one or two min- 
iatures on ivory, and some rare ivory carvings, and some 
pieces of old lace, with a jeweled-bound missal, falling 
to pieces with age. 

‘^Not an ordinary box full of treasures. Miss Hilson,” 
said Mrs. Marsdeu. If you had come empty-handed, we 
should have welcomed you, Tom, but it is useless to say 
that you would have brought as much genuine pleasure 
with you. This is certainly the cherished egg of the 
Stormy Petrel's Nest.” 

Well, now, I must go hack to my ‘baby,’ leaving it 
safe. I don’t care ever to see Bay Bluff again — it has 
been like a nightmare to me for so long. I used to dream 
that some one was there before me, and digging up the 
box, and carrying it off, while I could not reach the spot 
or call loud enough to scare them or bring help. It’s all 
off my mind now.” 

“ And on to mine — with a difference,” said Miss Ililson. 
“ I mean what I say when I tell you I can never repay 
you, for I must always think that you were suspected, and 
sought for as a criminal all on my account. I shall owe 
you something all my life.” 


Silver and Alt 


185 


You may strike a balance/’ said Mrs. Marsden, ^^for 
Tom may find this the open door to better fortunes. 
Those who suspect where innocence is afterwards proved 
are always more ready to atone by entire confidence and 
kindlier trust. Tom has never stood before his neighbors 
in the best light he deserved, and they will be glad to 
find he can stand its searching truth. There are bright 
days in store, Tom. Don’t think of anything else. And 
go to Father Morgan — he is interested.” 

Indeed, he was kind to me, and he did understand — 
everything.” 

Good-by ! ” said Milly, holding out her hand on an 
impulse. He took it silently, and was gone in a moment 
more. 

Why did you say ^good-by,’ Milly? That means 
you do not expect to see him again.” 

don’t,” said Milly, quietly. He is free now, in- 
deed. The boys are off his hands, and have worked out 
their own plans for a better time. He has proved himself 
a true man. Now he will go on to those dreams of his 
and their fulfilment. You will see he has done with 
Gray Beach — for the present, at least. I feel quite sure 
of it. How could he come back to that old hut and that 
one black pot with its endless stew ? It would be impos- 
sible.” 

^‘Oh, do you believe the tale of the black pot and the 
endless stew ? ” 

Yes, I do believe it. I have learned since I came 
here that the impossible to me and to you and to all of 
us is quite possible to other people — and some of them 
very good sort of people. I came here for rest and 


186 


Silver and All. 


retirement, and I have found many things to serve me 
all my life. Haven’t you, Mrs. Marsden ? Haven’t you. 
Miss Hilson ? ” 

And both answered Yes ! ” to her question with a de- 
cided emphasis. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


TREASURE TROVE. 

Mtlly was right. Tom Netterley was seen no more at 
Gray Beach. Father Morgan heard from him, and the 
Marsdens talked of him as a matter of course, so that his 
old neighbors had no opportunity to suspect him of other 
than a rise in life this time. Miss Hilson took pains 
to let it be known her box had been returned to her with 
all its contents, and that Tom had found it in the house 
at Bay Bluff in the closet of the wine cellar. Many of 
the searchers recalled the closet with its locked door — a 
lock so rusty and hinges so corroded they had not thought 
't worth while to open it, particularly as there was noth- 
mg in the cellar outside of it. The story that Tom had 
walked over to his father’s old home while nursing Louis 
so near it, had wandered over it and pried into every 
corner even more carefully than others had done, was a 
perfectly natural one. It was Just what would have hap- 
pened in the case of an idle, energetic boy, in a place so 
familiar and so soon to be a part of a past that would be 
best forgotten. There was an honest rejoicing in every 
house at Gray Beach and The Point that Miss Hilson 
“ had her own again,” and that Tom was righted. There 
was quite a revolution of feeling regarding the Xetterleys, 
and when Dan and Carroll came over, as they occasion- 
187 


188 


Treasure Trove. 


ally did, they found a warm welcome everywhere. Louis 
was at Mass with the new father and mother every Sun- 
day as soon as he was able to go — and a child is soon 
‘^able to go,’’ even after a severe illness. 

‘^Mother, you are always saying: ‘A great deal may 
happen in a year.’ It has taken less than a year to do 
away with the Netterley nuisance collectively and to turn 
some of the Netterleys individually into rather creditable 
members of society. Who would have believed it ! ” 

It was Frank who thus expressed herself as she walked 
home with her mother from the first Mass at which they 
saw the little fellow, pale and thin, and very much taller, 
his red-gold curls making a halo around a really beauti- 
ful refined face, and his neat suit setting off a trim figure. 

Mrs. Marsden only smiled in answer. She was think- 
ing of the changes the year had wrought already in some 
other people, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Their 
subject was nearer home. 

With January passed the last vestige of cold weather, 
and with February began a new and interesting period of 
their seaside sojourn. February is the month of all the 
year for a harvest of curious things on the beach. Not a 
day passed without some of the children rushing in with 
^^a find,” and buckets, pans, basins, coal-scuttles, were 
all pressed into the service of the ardent students of 
natural history. The king crabs, whose great shells are 
sometimes seen later in the year lying empty and ugly on 
the summer sands, began their career in February as tiny 
yet perfect, king crabs of less than half an inch in length 
all told, and delicately white and shining as small pearls. 
The sea anemones — they were the contents of the basins 


Treasure Trove, 


189 


— opened wonderful blossoms in pink and purple and 
closed them so suddenly Milly was not always sure she 
had really seen the beautiful flower. Annie Merton was 
a famous finder, and one day she came wdth a regular 
vegetable garden, ‘^onions, radishes, lettuce and the 
cook’s apron,” as they said, examining them. But when 
the onion ” began to contract its transparent layers and 
shoot out long feelers around a ragged mouth, when the 

radish” dragged itself out nearly a quarter of a yard 
across a great platter, its scarlet tail adhering to one 
side of the dish and the other end blindly wandering 
in search of something, when the ‘"lettuce” and “the 
cook’s apron ” in water waved and floated as flakes of 
seaweed of some species, the girls felt as if they were in 
the midst of a Christmas pantomime, rather “ creepy ” 
than amusing. The shells were beautiful and there were 
many varieties never seen any other time. The crabs 
were endless. One day they found the very ugliest sea 
monster they had yet seen — a crab so old he was covered 
with a green moss and his eyes were glazed and staring 
but horribly spiteful. The books they were forever con- 
sulting had nothing to quite equal him, but they ap- 
proached it nearest in the creature described by a small 
old primer as the “devil crab.” Another day, when 
Milly went for a drive on the sands, the whole beach for 
miles was covered with round, shining, transparent disks. 

“ Oh, look at the preserve saucers ! ” she cried to the 
girls who were walking behind the carriage for a short 
distance. “ There must have been a wreck and these are 
part of the cargo.” 

But they were “ jelly fish,” the villagers said— only 


190 


Treasure Trove, 


jelly-fish. Yet, they were so fantastically like a preserve 
saucer” that there was a fine beading as in cut glass 
around the fiuted divisions, and they were perfectly trans- 
parent. But they were solid, not concave, with a rounded 
surface. Milly had several of them put in the pony car- 
riage on the fioor, to take home to Mrs. Marsden, and 
there they speedily dissolved into clear water and disap- 
peared. 

With all the studies— and the girls tried hard to be 
conscientiously thorough in them — these wonders of the 
sea were never very carefully classified, and had always a 
lovely mystery and poetic fancy about them which they 
enjoyed quite as much as exact science, if not more. It 
is delightful, of course, to be learned, and in this age of 
superficial intellectual culture one must be half enthu- 
siastic, or one is nowhere ; ” but Milly frankly owned 
she did not care anything about it and it worried her. 
It was enough for her that the things were created, 
that she had seen them and that she should forever re- 
member them as a token sent from their Creator, the All- 
Powerful and All-Able. Helena really liked the studies 
and gathered enough to make it ever after easier to pur- 
sue them. Frank was quite able for it, but gave herself 
little trouble. She said she had enough to do with the 
science of housekeeping, which she thoroughly enjoyed 
and was rapidly mastering. 

And yet, they were such children in many things ! 

Where on earth have you been ? ” asked Mrs. Mars- 
den, almost in displeasure at their late appearance at the 
dinner-table one day. 

Oh, mother, we have been having such a jolly time ! 


Treasure Trove. 


191 


AVe have been listening to the crabs squeal and provoking 
them to wrath of the worst kind. We have, truly I” as 
her mother looked at her blankly. We were watching 
one of those little fellows bury himself, and when he was 
all safely under the sand, Frank tossed him out with her 
stick. He settled down again on another spot and dug 
away vigorously with his hind claws until he sank almost 
out of sight, then crossed his claws calmly over his head, 
and disappeared under the soft sand in that resigned 
posture. Frank scraped the sand away, and — will yon 
believe it ? — he shook those claws in her face, and 
squealed with rage. It is absolutely true ! AVe have been 
prowling up and down the beach, looking for the tiny 
hillocks which mark the spot where a crab is buried, and 
when we found one we dug him out until he squealed. 
The first time they take it as an accident, and politely 
accept it without remonstrance. The second time they 
are ruffled, and some of them regularly furious. The 
third time usually brings the squeal when the second 
does not, but they are like other people, and some are 
patient for three or four raids. But the squeal and the 
clenched fists were sure to come in the end.’^ 

^MVell, upon my word was all their mother could 
say. But for many days the squealing crabs, and the 
references to certain expressions of individual crabs, were 
most amusing and convincing of the '' jolly time’' they 
had that day. Milly was even introduced to some of the 
pugnacious creatures, and she certainly saw the clenched 
fists ” and the furious waving of claws when disturbed too 
often, but from her seat in the pony carriage or the chair 
she could not hear the squeal. 


192 


Treasure Trove. 


But the time seemed drawing near when she would 
walk. She could hardly believe it possible — she dare not 
hope. Her patience and self-control increased with each 
day, and, to those who only looked on, she did not seem to 
care very much about it. She could do so many things 
now, and she was so much stronger mentally, that the 
idea of helplessness ceased to be connected with her. 
But Helena knew of the dark ’’ hours, of the daily and 
strenuous efforts to ^‘rise and go forth,” of the secret 
longing and the countless deprivations of lier apparently 
peaceful and luxurious life. 

She certainly was much stronger, and she was conscious 
of a forgetfulness of her state which she thought was a 
proof of stronger nerves and a more natural condition. 

They say you are never conscious of your back and 
never think of it unless it pains you — that you just go on 
in a perfectly healthy state as if you were made of india 
rubber and springs. Well, I sometimes forget my back 
now. And I might surprise you all some day by forget- 
ting my feet and walking off on them. But — I don’t 
think I shall.” 

Albert shook his head slowly. 

Miss Milly,” he said gravely, don’ you be a-countin’ 
on no sich doin’s. You dess sit still an’ cum’fer’ble, an’ 
de wings a-cumin’. Yass, dey is. You min’ dat, now ! 
But — you hain’t a’goin’ ter go no Oder way. ’Oeptin’ hit’s 
hinder hoss or ole Albert’s hinder yore cheer.” 

Milly sighed softly. 

I am afraid you see very clearly, Albert. I had 
better rest on your foreseeing. And when the wings do 
come — then it won’t matter that I have waited,” 


Treasure Trove, 


193 


To her father she never wrote despondently, but raised 
no false hopes. Long letters passed between them, and 
each had much to tell the other. She said, laughingly, it 
was a good thing for the correspondence that she was not 
at the boarding-house. Everything there went on the 
same, day after day, and she could never have had a thought 
nor a bit of news, for he never cared for news of people. 
Now there was always so much to tell she grew tired of 
writing. 

Then Mrs. Marsden laughed. 

Milly, what a statement to make of Gray Beach ! 
Think of the thousands of people who could not exist 
one day out of the season. What would they think if they 
heard that you found more to interest you here in the 
winter time than in such a boarding-house as your father 

kept you in ? They would certainly write you down ” 

mendacious spider—a spinner of yarns ! said Frank. 

But, then, mother, they would change their minds if 
they had to spend a winter here. DoiiT you remember 
how the city people used to say that of life at Roseburn, 
when they came out for the summer ? But it is only 
necessary to get them to spend one winter in the country 
— they never go back to the city unless they are obliged 
to go for biisiness purposes. Look at the families around 
Roseburn who have come there within the last ten years. 
Wealthy people and poor people, and the middle-sized- 
income people, too. They come out to stay all year, and 
some one or two always grumble at the others who like 
it at first. Then they find out what it is to have a home 
instead of a brick hole in the wall like a city house, and 
then — they love it.” 

13 


194 


Treasure Trove, 


Yes, you are right, Frank,” said her mother, a 
country life is a natural life, and next to that, life in a 
small town, where there are wide stretches and garden-plots 
of plants and trees and grass and shrubs. For brick walls 
and no sky shut out light from heart as well as body, 
and dwarf the whole nature, in too many cases. Great 
men and women have come to live in cities, but the really 
great and noble have always had a country experience at 
some time in their life. And now we are all coming to a 
knowledge of this. It is fashionable, even, to live in the 
country, and every one who can is setting his face that 
way. Hundreds of them arc not fashionable, though. It 
is the love of better things than they have known which 
draws them.” 

Dear Gray Beach ! ” said Helena. 

Yes,” assented Milly, that is just what it is. It has 
taught us all — although you were country girls — what it 
is to really live with nature.” 

It is new,” said Frank, and Roseburn is so old it has 
settled. There are no discoveries to be made there — no 
such things as crabs who squeal.” 

But I think I shall make discoveries when we go 
back,” said Helena, ‘‘ for that is one of the things I have 
learned here — how to make discoveries by close observa- 
tion.” 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


MARCH WIJ^-DS. 

All through those sunny February days, teeming with 
new life and enriched forever for the three girls by their 
gleanings, March must have been strengthening its forces 
in the Cave of the Winds, and preparing for a mighty 
struggle. Then, as if fully versed in the Julian calendar, 
it loosed them upon the earth with the first day of spring. 

Neber see such a March fust. Hit am two, free lions 
rolled inter one, an^ hit roa’s — bress goodness ! But it 
do roa^ suah.” 

Such was Albert’s opinion when they asked him at break- 
fast what kind of a day it was out of doors. And he was 
right, for such a March first” would be strange and 
new to any inland sojourner at the seaside. The waves 
were driven far up on the board-walk, poured over the 
fioor of the pavilion and fell over the other side like a 
small cataract, while the foam flew as high as tlie roof of 
Ocean Cottage in myriads of tiny flakes like snow. The sun 
shone all day, but it was with a hard, cold glare that made 
the fields and woods, the long level marshes and the dis- 
tant city look strangely bleak and unnatural. Milly 
could not, of course, go out of the house, not even to the 
porch. The girls ran down to the edge of the board-walk 
in spite of the terrific struggle to reach it, and stood cling- 


196 


March Winds. 


ing to the flag-pole for a few minutes, awed and subdued 
by the majestic thunder of wind and waves which made 
it impossible to hear a word, although shrieked with all 
their strength. They went about the house all day after 
that, very quiet and thoughtful for such merry, chatter- 
ing creatures, and Milly sat almost utterly silent in the 
window that gave the best view of that angry ocean. 

After that, it was almost a continuous storm for two 
weeks. The rain fell at intervals in short, sharp bursts, 
the drops driving before the ceaseless blasts like slanting 
arrows. Now and then there was a cloudy day, and once 
or twice one of the glaring, bleak, shadeless days of cold 
sunshine, but always the wind roared and thundered, 
shrieked and sobbed. 

I declare, mother,” said Frank, when she came into the 
dining-room on the morning of the fifteenth day of storm, 
this is truly terrifying. Did you feel the house shake in 
the night ? I thought of Jim Donny’s story to frighten 
Albert. He said they had to* sit up to watch this house 
every night all last March to keep it from sliding off the 
beach, cause she’d go jest as easy as anything, she’s so 
close.’ It really seemed no exaggeration, and I fancied 
she moved once or twice.” 

** But * she ’ didn’t,” said Milly, archl3\ 

*‘No. But *she’ may, if this keeps on. The noise is 
worse than the tremor, though. I would give a great deal 
for an hour of perfect quiet. But, mother, what worries 
you ? You are not paying the slightest attention to my 
complaints, and you are not usually so heartless.” 

** Well, dear, I think the storm has affected me, also., I 
am * nervous,’ I suppose, although I do not know the 


March Winds. 


197 

meaning of the word as it is used so often. I cannot but 
think it strange that I have not heard from your father 
for so long a tirne.^’ 

I have not had a letter for a long time, either,^’ said 
Milly. was thinking about it this morning, and I 
concluded these winds must have had some effect on the 
mails.” 

Mrs. Marsden was silent. She had not mentioned at any 
time the anxiety that was oppressing her. Mr. Marsden 
had written to her alone that there was a faint prospect 
of a speedy conclusion to their business, so golden and 
glorious, however, that he hardly dared tell her, and she 
must not speak of it yet. If it became reality, he might 
see her as soon as the next letter could reach her. Oh, if 
he had started ! If through all tliese fierce and angry 
waters he was making his way to destruction ! 

In vain she had combated her fears and fancies. She 
told herself over and over again that out of twenty vessels, 
all but one would probably come safe to port, and why 
should the one be his ? She varied the proportions, she 
urged the continual traffic and the continual escapes from 
all dangers — always the thought pursued her, and she was 
daily growing more anxious. 

What Milly had said turned the conversation into the 
channel of accidents and shipwrecks, and with an enjoy- 
ment as gloomy and peace-racking as the day, they pursued 
it into all sorts of out-of-the-way tracks, each repeating all 
she could recall of such stories, or describing pictures and 
paintings that had impressed their horrors on her mind. 
Miss Hilson seemed to have an endless store of them. 
Among others, she described a shipwreck that had occurred 


198 


March Winds, 


at Gray Beach — or, rather, in which Gray Beach had a 
part — several years before. 

It was in March, and such a March as this. There 
was a young fellow — one of the pilots — who had just been 
promoted to Captain and given the command of one of the 
finest pilot-boats, and who had been engaged to one of the 
Gray Beach girls for some time. She was a pretty, lively 
young thing, and he was in every way worthy of a sweet 
wife, a cozy home and all the honors that he had won. 
They had intended for a year to be married as soon as this 
promotion came, and now, they had fixed the day. It was 
the fifteenth of March.’’ 

To-day ! ” exclaimed Helena. How strange we should 
hear his story on this day for the first time ! ” 

Miss Hilson paused a minute. 

Surely ! This is the fifteenth. And it really was 
very much such a day as this is. We all regretted that 
the sun should not shine on the bride, I remember, for al- 
though I did not know either of them, I was like every one 
else, very much interested in the young couple. They 
were married at noon — high noon — in a large Presbyterian 
church about five miles off, and the wedding was a large 
and gay one. After the service, they went home to the 
new house he had prepared for her, and a great many of 
the wedding guests went with them to help get the wed- 
ding supper ready, and to make a generally joyous and 
holiday time. But soon after they had reached their home 
— it was farther up the beach than Gray Beach — a mes- 
senger came for the groom. A ship was going out to sea 
and he was wanted as pilot. Now, I don’t know why (for 
I never could get all the story clearly), and I always 


March Which . 


199 


thought it was strange they could not give a man his 
wedding day, but so it was. The messenger came and he 
went, expecting to return not later than midnight. But 
before sunset a terrible wind began to blow and increased 
to a perfect hurricane. Next day, portions of the broken 
wreck of the ship he had piloted to its end came ashore on 
this beach, but not a single body was ever seen.^^ 

And the bride ? ” eagerly asked Frank. 

She has behaved well, Frank. She still lives in the 
home he left her. You have passed it many times in your 
drives. It is the white double cottage on Deal road, with 
the tall shining leaved shrubs in the little front yard. I 
think she mourned him sincerely, but she is placidly 
happy now.^^ 

‘‘ That was not a piece of the wreck we used to sit on, 
was it ?” 

Oh, no ! That was a wreck of long ago, in spite of 
Tom Netterley’s belief. But they say it was a March 
wreck. Tlie people have a greater dread of March than 
any other time of the year.’’ 

Mrs. Marsden left the room. She had sat as if fasci- 
nated, listening to the horrors she dreaded to recall, until 
she could bear it no longer. She must be alone and 
fight actively with her ‘^foolish fears.” When she came 
again among them she was her own quiet, bright self. 

The day wore slowly on, growing gloomier and gloomier. 
At sunset — as in Miss Hilson’s story — it became terrific, 
and with the increasing darkness, the wind rose higher and 
higher, and shrieked and howled more furiously. Not one 
of the family slept that night, for it rained heavily, and for 
the first time penetrated the roof and the very walls. 


^00 March Winds, 

blown all ways by the changing gale, which shifted con- 
stantly. 

Other noises than wind and sea seemed now and then to 
break the niglit, and Miss Hilson had some idea of their 
meaning, but she said nothing to the frightened girls nor 
Mrs. Marsden. At the first glimpse of dawn, however, 
she began lier search from every window, and when the 
gray light grew, she saw a group on the beach not far from 
the life-saving station. 

There is a wreck ! ” she exclaimed. And as her 
sight grew more accustomed to the sea, she cried out with 
horror : Oh, Merciful Heaven ! what a wreck it is, in- 
deed ! ” 

Her cry was almost a shriek, and in an instant they were 
all around her except poor Milly. 

It was close in shore — a great black hulk, tossing and 
sinking on the wild sea, washed by the tremendous waves, 
covered with the foam one minute and rising like a strug- 
gling animal far from the water the next moment. Yet 
she was very near. It did not seem possible that there, 
on their own beach, on the very sands they had lounged 
on and slept on and picnicked on, and sought for shells 
along it, and teased the crabs among its shallow pools 
— there she could be lost. 

Albert had been knocking at the door several minutes 
before they could heed him in their excitement. He had 
been out, and came to beg the ladies to go to the beach. 
It was not raining, he said, and the wind was going down 
— it was only the sea that raged still. It was safe, and it 
was so wonderful they must see it. 

In a very little time the two Marsden girls and Miss Hil- 


March Winds, 


^01 


son were ready to go, but Mrs. Marsden preferred to stay 
with Milly. A fear she could not cast off had again seized 
her, and as soon as she found herself alone with Milly, it 
broke forth. 

Oh, Milly — oh, my dear, my dear ! do you think your 
father can be on that vessel ? Did he say anything in 
his last letter about coming home ? Oh, I am sure they 
are there, drowning before our eyes ! ” 

Mrs. Marsden, dear Mrs. Marsden ! ” cried the startled 
girl, opening her arms and taking the terrified lady into 
their close embrace, they are no more there than you 
and I are out in the waves. Papa never has said a word 
about coming home until next fall at the earliest. Think 
a moment I He would not risk a March in this part of 
the world after such a winter as he has just passed. It 
would undo all the good the mountain air has done. 
This awful wind storm has even had an effect on you. I 
never expected to see you so frightened at nothing but 
your own shadow.’’ 

She was trembling herself, but she was full of courage, 
and she knew no mere trifie could have moved Mrs. Mars- 
den. It quite alarmed her to think of the mischief the 
weather, or something as much beyond their control, had 
wrought in this serene and sensible nature. But her pet- 
ting and her calmness had its effect, too, and Mrs. Mars- 
den had collected herself, and was wiping her eyes and 
trying hard to smile at her ^^foolishness ” in a very short 
time. But she could not bear to watch the struggling 
vessel, and stood in the shadow, saying little, but listen- 
ing to every sound with strained ears. 

Time passes quickly under such circumstances, al- 


202 


March Winds. 


though it seems to drag. It was full daylight, it was 
eight o’clock, it was nine o’clock, and still the girls had 
not come in. The tide was going out now, and the vessel 
was not going with it. It still rolled, but it was evi- 
dently on the bottom now, and would be left high and dry 
when the tide was at its lowest. The crowd was increas- 
ing every moment, however, and the interest seemed to 
be as great as ever. 

The maid came up to ask — in rather an injured tone — 
if cook might send in breakfast, and Mrs. Marsden, un- 
derstanding the grievance, said at once to send it in for 
Miss Milly and herself, and, then, if they wished, they had 
better go to the beach to watch the wreck. The breakfast 
bell sounded so immediately that it was safe to conclude 
cook had already served it before Jane asked permission. 

Milly went down and found Mrs. Marsden seated al- 
ready, .and busy in a mechanical way with cups and 
saucers. It was a silent meal for a few minutes. Then 
Mrs. Marsden sprang from her chair with such a cry, 
and of such strange meaning, that it sent a shock through 
Milly ’s whole being. 

My husband ! Oh, my husband ! ” 

The door was torn open, she flew through the hall, she 
was out on the porch. 

Milly rose to her feet and followed her to see her 
clasped in the arms of a fine-looking man in a huge over- 
coat and furs. 

You are saved ! ” cried Mrs. Marsden. Oh, how 
could it be ? ” And drawing back to look at him, You 
are not even wet ! ” 

Why should I be, my dear ? I have not been out in 


March Winds, 


203 


the rain. Why, bless my soul ! This will be good news 
for Aveling ! My dear Miss Milly ! ” 

And then it flashed upon them that Milly had walked 
— that she was — could she be — cured ? 

It was all a hurly-burly of amazement, a tremor of uncer- 
tain joy, a wonderful hour of speechless gratitude. Mrs. 
Marsden threw her arm around the girl and Mr. Marsden 
instinctively supported her on the other side, but she 
imlhed into the dining-room and sat down quite at her ease 
on an ordinary chair and put out her pretty little feet 
with a wondering, hopeful air of inspection. 

don’t know how I did it !” she exclaimed, looking 
from one to the other. 

I know ! ” said Mrs. Marsden in a low voice of awed 
conviction. ^‘You ‘arose and walked,’ for our prayers 
have been heard.” 

Milly covered her face with her hands, and there was 
silence. 

“ Do you mean that she has not walked before ? ” pres- 
ently asked Mr. Marsden. 

“ Never a step until I startled her so. I could not but 
cry out when I saw you through the windows. But 
how — where ” 

Mrs. Marsden could not go on. 

“ I came down in the train to Brighton last night, but 
I could not get any one to bring me over at an earlier 
hour. Everything seems upside down in this out-of-the- 
way place. There is a wreck somewhere, it appears, but 
I had not time to And out particulars. I was too impatient 
to get to you and the girls. Where are they ? ” looking 
eagerly around at the door. 


204 


March Winds, 


They have gone to the wreck,” said Mrs. Marsclen in 
a blithe voice unlike the one Milly had listened to with 
such concern. ‘‘And, oh, I thought you had just come 
from it ! I thought they had brought you ashore in the 
breeches-buoy ! ” 

Then such a laugh as Mr. Marsden gave ! And such a 
chorus as Mrs. Marsden and Milly made of it ! 

“ What ! ” he cried, standing up and spreading out his 
arms — and a very handsome, stately figure, he was too — 
“ Get into the breeches-buoy in this fine overcoat — the 
first I have had for years — and all these sables ? Such 
extravagance not to be tolerated, my dear wife ! I bought 
these only yesterday afternoon, when we got into New 
York, and I was half frozen in your winter climate. 
But,” and his fine face grew grave enough, “ where is 
this wreck ? There may be some poor souls less fortu- 
nate than I was on board of her. We had a fearful pas- 
sage and only God’s mercy saved us from the same fate.” 

Mrs. Marsden hastened to point out from the porch the 
crowd on the beach, and he immediately started at a 
quick pace for the scene, while she returned to Milly. 

She found her standing up — with clasped hands and 
such a reverent, grateful, loving look on her face as told 
its own story. Mrs. Marsden put her arms around her 
and kissed her tenderly. 

“ Your dear father !” she said, “if he had only been 
with Mr. Marsden, what joy it would have given him ! 
We cannot get the news to him quickly enough.” 

“ There will go other news with it,” said Milly, softly. 
“ I am cured ! I promised that if I was cured as I dared 
to hope, I would ask at once to be received into the Gath- 


March Winds, 205 

olio Church. That is my first thought and my firm in- 
tention.” 

My dear child !” 

Mrs. Marsden could say no more. 

Milly began testing her power, then, by short journeys 
from chair to chair, from window to door, from table to 
fireplace, and always without tremor or stiffness. Finally, 
the two stood side by side in the window, waiting impa- 
tiently for the return of the home-party. 

It was not very long until they saw Albert scudding 
across the brown grass on the bluff, working his long arms 
and short legs like the telegraph macliine at the Coast 
Station. They were both laughing heartily at his ap- 
pearance when he burst in upon them without any pre- 
liminaries. 

Mis’ Marsden, is you see him ? Is you raly see him ? 
He dar ! Bress goodness he dar, suah as yore bo’n ! I 
see him a-cumin’, an’ I dess run, I did. I ax you now, is 
dat he g’ostest ? Is dat my Mistah Ed’ard ? An’ I know 
dat him, anyway.” 

‘‘Yes, Albert, that is really your Mr. Edward. He 
came down last night to Brighton and ” 

But Albert was gazing in terrified doubt at Milly. The 
poor old fellow turned of a dusky gray and “the beaded 
sweat stood on his brow.” 

“ Miss Milly ! Is — is — dat you ? ” 

“Yes, Albert.” 

“ Oh, bress goodness ! ” 

It was a devout thanksgiving, and he sank on his knees, 
the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“ Oh, Miss Milly ! I didn’t eber tink I see dis day. 


206 


March Winds, 


An’ Mistah Ed’ard yere too, de bery day de good Lord sen’ 
His healin’ angel. Bress goodness ! ” 

He scrambled to his feet, half sobbing and half chuck- 
ling, flourishing his great yellow bandanna, and strug- 
gling to regain his usual deportment. 

‘^Igot no time to tarry,” he muttered. Dat dar 
table got ter be sot up scrumptious dis day ; and ole 
Albert he got ter do it.” 

But, Albert,” called Mrs. Marsden after him, as he 
hurried out of the room, what about the wreck ? Is 
there any one on her ? Can they do anything ? ” 

Oh, sho’ ! Mis’ Marsden, neber see sich ole wreck ! 
Not’in’ ceptin’ ole fruit baskit, an’ ebery soul on her 
gone long ago. Dem station men tink dey lebe her fo’ de 
big win’ last night. An’ she hain’t no wreck nohow. 
She gwine lay up dar high an’ dry ’bout noon, an’ you kin 
hab all de o’anges an’ lemonses I kin hook outen her ole 
carkess. Dar cum dem galses ! An’ dey don’ know dere 
fader cum yit nor not’in’ ! ” 

They were spinning along with Miss Hilson, laughing 
and talking gaily, and not far behind them Mr. Marsden 
was hurrying, up the Avenue from the beach. Milly 
withdrew from the window and sat down in her wheeled 
chair, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. Every 
now and then, she pressed her hands together and lifted 
first one foot and then the other from the floor. She 
was cured ! 

Mrs. Marsden threw up the window and motioned to 
the girls to look behind them. The next instant with a 
joyful cry they had flown to their father, and Miss Hilson 
stood aghast at the spectacle of her companions raptur- 


March Winds. 


207 


oiisly kissed and kissing in the face of all Gray Beach. 
But she knew, of course, who it was, and stepped se- 
dately onward to her own room, where she closed the 
door on the happy family in whose joy she had no part 
but that of sympathizer. 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 

GOOD-BY ! 

It may be truly said that nothing had ever made such 
a stir at Gray Beach as did Milly Aveling’s restoration to 
health. She had been a member of their community for 
nearly a year, and she had been truly a neighbor to all, 
one of themselves in sympathies and appreciation and in 
efforts to help each one bear the burden appointed to each. 
Her helplessness seemed only to intensify her desire to 
help every other soul she met, and to give her an added 
sense that taught an instinctive perception of the help 
each needed. The children had lived beside her, and she 
had shared their childish joys and sorrows, listened to 
their ambitions, finished out their plans for them, and 
continually taught them some good and gentle thing from 
her chair of bondage. They rejoiced in their own way, 
but they were shy and strange, too, as though it parted 
them already from their ‘^own Miss Milly.” 

But she would not let them grow strange. She went 
everywhere and she called on them for so much of their 
time and attention that they soon forgot she had ever been 
unable to climb and walk and search and gather as well as 
any of them. She confided in them as she had ever done, 
and they knew as well as any to whom she attributed her 
cure, and the thank-offering she intended to make. She 
208 


209 


Good-by ! 

had a simple, straightforward, reverent way of speaking 
that impressed its meaning on even a child’s mind, and 
fell in with the home-life as though she had always had 
her place there as a Catholic child. 

Letters had been written at once to Mr. Aveling by Mr. 
Marsden and Mrs. Marsden as well as Milly, and the 
answers were eagerly looked for. Milly had asked that she 
alone might tell him what she wished to do, and they 
willingly left it to her pen, while there was no stinted 
measure of sympathetic congratulation from them, and of 
loving appreciation of her sweet and noble character, 
newly revealed in her acceptance of a great joy as it had 
been displayed under a great affliction. 

Mr. Marsden had brought wonderfully good news, when 
he found time to tell it all. The business he had planned 
and carried forward unaided had been so improved and 
enlarged by Mr. Aveling’s engaging in it with hearty 
approval and support as to bring it prominently before the 
public and the government. Jealous of foreigners thus 
profiting by what they might secure to themselves at the 
cost of some sacrifices in the present to be repaid in the 
future, the most advantageous offers had been made, and 
urged repeatedly on a rising scale, by the government. 
Mr. Aveling was satisfied with regaining his health and 
anxious to be free to return to his child at the first moment 
possible, since he had lost the hope of her coming to him 
in her protracted helplessness. Mr. Marsden was satisfied 
with the reward of his labors, and open-eyed to a brilliant 
prospect it would lead to in his own country. The final 
ofl:*er had been made and accepted just in time for him to 
take the steamer on which his next letter would have been 
14 


210 


Good-by 1 

forwarded. Mr. Aveliiig’s letter he brought with him, as 
well as treasures of beautiful things for the beloved child 
for whom he pined. 

‘‘Yes, Miss Milly, I will say that — your father pines for 
you, and will never have a happy moment until he is wdth 
you once more. I am sure the news of your restoration 
will be worth all the other good news he ever heard. And 
he will let you have your way, too, I think. We have 
had many a talk together on many a matter of serious 
nature. He^s a noble fellow, out and out, just, reasonable 
and conscientious. But he is quite well again. Never 
saw such a country in my life ! Every air you breathe 
strengthens you and raises your spirits, but the mountain 
air is healing and perfume and nourishment and balm all 
in one — a regular elixir ! ” 

The girls and their mother laughed at his enthusiasm, 
but he persisted in it, and declared he intended to take 
them all out there for a pleasure trip before the end of the 
year. Mr. Aveling thought of coming home the next fall, 
as the summer in the mountains would “toughen his 
lungs, as Mr. Marsden ex])ressed it, but now that Milly 
could go with them, they would all go out and sp6nd the 
winter, coming home in the spring. 

“But a little later than this,” he said, “for I shall 
never consent to risk the spring winds at sea after this 
experience. And I want to know if you donT all feel like 
packing up and going home with me to Eoseburn ? You’ve 
had a year of acclimation, you know, but I am homesick, 
I own. What do you say ? ” 

There was a long silence. One looked at the other. 

“ What do you say, Miss Milly ? It is for you to say, I 


Good-by ! 211 

know, for you are the one concerned in the question of 
Gray Beach air.” 

I think any air of my native land will serve now, and 
I hope to try some foreign breezes as well. But — I must 
own I do not want to lose sight of Gray Beach, my first 
real home place ! ” 

‘‘ That you need not do. Your father intends to buy 
Ocean Cottage for another of your toys. I am com- 
missioned to see to it as soon as possible.” 

Oh, how glad I am ! Then we need not give it up 
at all. We can keep it open and come and go as we wish, 
and loan it to our friends when tliey are ill or tired. I 
couldn't stay here all the year round by myself, you know, 
and you are all ready to go back to Koseburn, now that 
you have helped me to new life. Oh, I never can thank 
you enough for it — all ! ” 

She hesitated a little before the last word, and they 
felt its full meaning. 

Thus it was settled that they were to return to Koseburn, 
Milly quite as one of themselves, but that the flitting ” 
should be a lengthy process. Frank and her father went 
up in a day or so to see to the opening of the Koseburn 
house — Frank said she was determined her mother should 
not get a firm hold on the reins again, now that she knew 
how to keep house and liked it better every day — while 
Mrs. Marsden and Helena closed accounts, settled all 
business and social demands, and made new paths for 
Milly in the future. Then Mrs. Marsden and Albert 
departed with the cook. Milly and Helena were the last 
to go, keeping Miss Hilson with them until the last, and 
having a cozy time in the balmy April days with the maid 


212 


Good-by ! 


to do all they needed for their simple fare and tidy house. 
Miss Hilson was going when they went, to spend the few 
weeks of the year she always gave to city life, and wliich 
she usually took from the long winter nights and short 
winter days they had this year made so pleasant for her. 

It was the day before they were to leave. The two girls 
were strolling slowly on the beach, stopping often to turn 
in their progress and look seaward or landward with long, 
fond gaze. 

You love it, donT you, Milly ? ” 

Yes, I dearly love it. It has brought me so much — 
this sea and this sky. Oh, the thoughts that liave come 
to me out of them — the thoughts I have sent upward to 
one over the other ! You know, there is nothing between us 
and Our Lord here — nothing at all. And it seems a so 
much fitter place for Him, if the day should come for Him 
to appear. Of course, Helena, I know these are only feel- 
ings and thoughts, and they are not to build on, but they 
have helped me, and I am thankful for them. I will not 
think such things in the future, perhaps, for the time for 
dreaming is over now. Bu t while we have senses and feel- 
ings, and are weak and young, it is not wrong, is it, to be glad 
of places and people and thoughts that make it easier to be 
good and to bear suffering and all our crosses patiently ? ” 

I — donT — know,’’ answered Helena slowly. We 
had best ask Father Morgan.” 

“ Oh, yes, of course ! I shall ask and I shall then know 
exactly what is right to think. But, Helena, I have to 
ask you these questions about right and wrong as practise. 
I could not get them into the words that express my 
meaning exactly if I didn’t talk things over with you. 


213 


Goocl-hy ! 

And I’m not afraid to talk things over with you, because 
you are sure that I mean to do what is riglit and to think 
as the Church teaches. And all these things I have found 
at Gray Beach ! ” 

I have found a great deal here, too,” said Helena. It 
seems more than a year since we came, and, yet, one month 
has been more like every other month than ever before. 
If we had not had the snow-storm and the March winds, 
it would have been summer all the year.” 

And the snow-storm and the March winds brought us 
more than the other months all put together. That is, of 
the things one can tell and count up. I am sure there 
has not been a day I have not grown, and, I do hope, 
grown upward. Do you thirik I have done anything for 
anybody but myself ? It ought to have been a busy year 
for other people, and I have been an idle creature.” 

You are wrong in that, dear Milly ! ” said Miss Hilson, 
whom they had been walking to meet, and who had heard 
the last sentence. I will tell you frankly on this last 
night of our home life together that you have wasted no 
time and have sown seeds of truth broadcast. I go to and 
fro upon the earth, you know, and gather in the harvest 
others sow very often. And old Mrs. Herbert said to-day, 
while speaking out of a full heart of the comfort Leila is 
to her, that she could never, never be thankful enough for 
dear Miss Milly, so helpless and so helpful from the first 
day she came to Gray Beach.” 

Helpless and helpful ! ” repeated Milly that night 
as she stood in her own room alone, looking out into the 
moonlit beauty of sea and sky. ‘MVas Unit the true 
reading of my cross and the bearing of it ? Oh, I hope 


214 Good-by ! 

it was, although I did not know it. I wanted it to be, but 
— was it ? ” 

And the sea and the sky and' the wind and tlie stars 
would have answered if they spoke, It was/’ And 
every little child, sinking to sleep v/ith a lieavy heart, 
from Leila in her comfortable sky-chamber to Alissa in her 
trundle-bed with three to share it ; from Jimmy Donny 
with the weight of the store-basket on his mind to Louis 
Xetterley asleep in the moonlight without a care or a sor- 
row beyond the morrow’s parting with our own Miss 
Milly,” would gently and understandiiigly have answ^ered. 

It was.” And mothers and fathers, anxious and year- 
worn, the lonely souls from IMiss Ililson to “ olo Mis’ Pusli- 
cart ” they too would have had but one answer, It was.” 

Helpless and helpful ! 

Such indeed was Milly Aveling’s record of a year — such 
her cross and the bearing of it. 


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